


we'll carry on

by littledewdrops



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Collective Family Trauma, DaD sEnT mE tO tHe MoOn (Umbrella Academy), Diego Hargreeves is Bad at Feelings, F/M, Good Sibling Number Six | Ben Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves Needs Help, Mental Health Issues, Number Five | The Boy Has Issues, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Canon, Protective Siblings, References to Depression, Reginald Hargreeves Being an Asshole, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Suicidal Thoughts, The Hargreeves | Umbrella Academy Need a Hug, Vanya Hargreeves Deserves Better, but with a number nine too, eight and nine are twins, minus season 2, reader can be number eight, the commission is a pain in the ass, the hargreeves are emotionally stunted, typical number eight fanfic, will stick to the other pairings on the show
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29509209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littledewdrops/pseuds/littledewdrops
Summary: one day, they will fight the skeletons in their closets and pick up all their broken dreams that were swept under the rug. because one day, they will realize that they were more than the caricature of themselves built for them by others. they will open their eyes to the truth that heroes need salvation too.[it takes nine to save the world from an impending apocalypse]
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy)/Original Female Character(s), Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy)/Reader, Number Six | Ben Hargreeves/Original Female Character(s), The Hargreeves (Umbrella Academy) & Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 20
Collections: Angry teen is soft for s/o





	1. they say it starts with a count to ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **act one;** _the beginning of everything_
> 
> _"when you grow up, will you be the savior of the broken, the beaten and the damned?"_
> 
> _  
> [welcome to the black parade; my chemical romance](https://open.spotify.com/track/5wQnmLuC1W7ATsArWACrgW?si=aTneFFZSTz-KUjkQddI81w)  
> _

For all she could remember her life started at the age of five. Because while everyone could remember the vague fragments of their childhood with the simplest feeling of nostalgia, she had absolutely nothing. No clue as what was going to happen to her. No clue as to who she was.

Her earliest childhood memory was, in summary, a blur. It was like fast forwarding a one-hour film or telling a story in a mere ten seconds. Ten seconds that tilted her world, because it was the only thing she ever knew of her past. The only fragment she had of she was. But it was never enough to help her paint a vivid picture.

After all, the most she had was a faint idea of what it consisted of. Whether it was partly imagination or truly reality, was a discussion for another time.

Back to the matter at hand, she had ten seconds to tell a story.

 _One_. The sky was blue that day. The little girl was looking out the window, patiently seated at the backseat of the car. Humming alongside the sound of the engine.

 _Two_. There were three other people with her. The first two being a blurred shadow of who was supposedly her mother and her father. Their faces were too distorted for her to be able to remember.

 _Three_. Beside her was herself. Whether it was a mere figment of her imagination, she wasn't exactly able to tell. She wasn't sure if it was just her reflection on the car's window, or maybe even just an imaginary friend.

 _Four_. Someone shouts. The noise suddenly pierces through the silence.

 _Five_. The vehicle swerves. She remembers the loud noise that left her deaf to the world around her. The noise that muted chaos.

 _Six_. She clung unto the nearest person beside her. Whether she was protecting them, or they were protecting her, she couldn't exactly tell which it was. But she did know that they were warm— a sign of life. It was comforting.

 _Seven_. Glass breaks and its tiny fragments pierces her skin. Something wet trickles down her face. It was crimson red; the child thinks it was the color of roses. She was too young to understand whose blood it was.

 _Eight_. She felt the delayed sense of pain. It was excruciating. Her head hurt from the impact. Her torso hurt from the glass that wounded her soft unblemished skin. Her stomach hurt from the confusion, the fear, the anxiety. It felt like she was being crushed by the weight of the world.

 _Nine_. Deep breaths. She wonders when the pain would end. The last struggle for survival. Breath in. Breath out.

 _Ten_. She sees pitch black.

* * *

The next thing she knows, her eyes open to the sight of white walls and the sound of beeping of the machine next to her bed. It beats in a constant steady rhythm, as if to prove she was still alive. The soft noise aggravates her. It makes her aware of the pain in her head that spread through her body. She tries to restrain the strong desire to pull the tubes and cables attached to her, yearning to remove the things keeping her strapped on the hospital bed. She wanted to walk around and observe her surroundings. She wanted to get out of the room of constricting white walls. She wanted to be free.

Instead, she settles for staring at her reflection on the window positioned right beside her hospital bed.

A nurse enters the room and widens her eyes at the sight of the child who awoken, and almost immediately, as per hospital procedure, she calls on a couple fellow nurses and proceed to test her vitals.

From her first encounter of another person’s presence ever since she got there, she manages to take note of a few things. She catches on a few words. Something about a car crash. Something about the brain. Something about a condition called retrograde amnesia. Nevertheless, she didn't know what it could possibly mean, and the concept was a bit too much for any five-year old to have a grip on. Though, what she does manage to understand was that she had a sister.

At least that was what she managed to make out the sound of the whispers.

_'How ironic, twin sisters who have the same condition.'_

_'What a tragedy. They're so young.'_

_'How would they be able to cope the death of their parents?'_

_‘Poor kids. They didn’t deserve this.’_

She doesn't question them, but she does wonder about the other girl in the same predicament. The girl who was said to be her sister— _her twin_. Whatever that meant _._

She could barely remember her name, but maybe her sister knew. She clings unto that small hope. And at that thought, she couldn't help but glance at the curtain set adjacent to the window, the make-shift wall that covers the space right across the room. She wonders if _that_ girl was there. And though she waits for any clue, all she was met with was silence.

It takes a couple of hours before her questions were answered. The first nurse who tended to her promised to come back a little later with their dinner. And with more than enough time to spare, she was determined to take a peek behind the curtain. Unfortunately, the cables and tubes attached to her body made it incredibly challenging to do so.

Almost as if the universe heard her prayers, the curtains move oh-so-slightly. She shifts in her bed in anticipation, as she watches a small girl push her way through the layer of white. And to her surprise, she was met with a reflection of herself. It was oddly familiar, as if she had known her all her life (which surely, she did, considering that they did share the same womb; but she doesn't remember that).

They seem to complement each other; like Yin and Yang, like Night and Day, like Mind and Heart.

At least now, she knew who she was hugging from the back of the car within the blur of her memory. She realizes that the girl wasn't a figment of her imagination after all.

It was odd to see a clone of herself. But she feels comfort in knowing she wasn't alone. It felt like she found her other half. The only person she had left.

Her so-called twin sister breaks into a smile and speaks her first words to her. "You're a mirror!"

"I'm not" she furrows her eyebrows in confusion, wondering what in the world was wrong with the child’s head. _Well, the brain damage they received from the car crash was definitely one thing._

Even so, her twin did have a point considering their identical appearance. It was easy to mistake one for the other, the only difference there was to note was the difference in the gravity of their injuries, because while she had more than enough cuts and a couple broken bones, her so called sister seemed to only have wounds and bruises apart from the bandaged portion of her head.

"What's your name?" her reflection continues to smile at her, trying to climb on the bed with her tiny little body, albeit clearly failing as she keeps sliding off before she reaches the top.

"I thought you'd know," the other girl shrugs. An unsettling feeling forms in her gut. She wasn't fond of this confusion. She didn't like how she seemed to know nothing about herself other than the fact she had a sister.

The very same sister of her’s seemed to understand her feelings, because she gives up throwing her weight on the bed and messing up the bed sheets, deciding to make her way towards the headrest. Instead, the child reaches out for her sister and her hand tightens around the other's, as she says, "It's okay."

The other girl knows it won't be, but she doesn't call her out. She accepts the assurance from the child who was as small — _as vulnerable_ — as she was, returning the gesture with a squeeze, before asking, "What's your name?"

"I don't know either," her sister answers with a matching shrug. "The lady who takes care of me said that we're forgetful."

She knows that wasn't what she meant, but she got the gist of it. They had no memories and it seemed like people were having a hard time to identify information about them.

"She also said someone else is going to take care of us since they think our Mommy and Daddy are in heaven" the child adds, wondering why they didn't tell her sister about the bad news. "They didn't tell you?"

The other girl answers with a shake of her head. They didn't. She just woke up recently, after all. Maybe it was the whispers she heard. The whispers of their voices claiming how pitiful it was, how sad they would be. It was odd, but she didn't feel anything about their parents. She didn't even know their name or faces. Maybe it was the side effect of the amnesia.

The little girl decides to dwell on it. She knows better than to think about it too much. Fearing that she might pick on the healing scabs. That remembering might hurt because the loss would settle in.

It doesn't matter, she tells herself. She had a sister. _She had a comrade._

That was more than enough.

* * *

It takes a couple of weeks before their world starts spinning again. In the span of time, they were at the hospital, both children start to heal from the cuts and bruises, and even the broken bones. They bond most days considering their beds neighbored each other's. They spend time together knowing that no one understands them better than they do themselves. The younger twin more often speaks and leads the conversation while the older one finds herself listening and joining in when she has to.

More often, it wasn't exactly _listening_ , rather she concentrates on her sister's voice to keep her grounded. Sometimes it feels like the only thing real in her little world.

Their memory doesn't improve, but thankfully the car crash doesn't hinder the opportunity to form new ones. Although, the children continued to have difficulty remembering their names no matter how many times the nurse had told them. They are content not knowing for a while.

It was when Sir Reginald Hargreeves, the eccentric billionaire, found them, that they finally realized that they were going to leave this place. They were finally going to say goodbye to the room of white walls, the beeping machines and the tangled tubes attached to their bodies.

She wonders about what was beyond this place.

The moment a representative of Child Services approached the twins, the little girl was so sure there was something big going on that day. The respectable woman had visited the children, long enough for them to understand that they were orphans and they needed a home. And the young girl wonders if this place they called _'home'_ was where they'd be heading when they leave the hospital.

She wonders if she'll have her sister.

She wants them to stick together. _They wouldn't be torn apart, would they?_

And although the lady definitely said some empty words to assure them, the child knew better. She realizes that there was a possibility they would.

_And she can't have that._

She can't lose her other half. It was the only thing she had left.

The twins stared at each other at the realization of never meeting again, and at the thought, tears almost spill from their wide eyes.

Ironically, it came as a relief to meet Sir Reginald Hargreeves. The cold and domineering old man didn't seem to be the type to adopt a child nor the type to even form a family. He was neither warm nor welcoming, but he did offer to pay a hefty sum to take care of them both.

To her, it was more than enough.

The man was definitely different from the others. Apart from his stoic demeanor, she recognized silence around him. There were no whispers, just the sound of his steady voice, she found both consoling and disturbing. She tries not to mind it too much.

But clearly, her sister doesn't think the same, as the other girl falls completely silent despite being the one who had always begun the conversations they shared.

So, instead of her, the older twin takes charge. She speaks as soon as the man faces them. "Who are you?"

"I, Sir Reginald Hargreeves, shall be adopting you. I expect you to be prepared by tomorrow at three in the afternoon," he answers straight and clear, providing enough information he deemed necessary.

She doesn't understand the concept of adopting but she does know it means that they would be staying with them from then on. She gets the gist of what he wants.

"I—uh... We don't know our names" the girl does her best to avoid jumbling her words. She doesn't know why she finds the need to say it, but she thinks the man deserves an introduction from them as well.

"It is unnecessary" he says curtly, taking his monocle to polish it momentarily before putting it back on to have a closer look at them. He assumes that she's the older twin

"From now on, you will go by Number Eight," the man looks at her and then her sister, "And you shall be Number Nine."

Eight and Nine.

She thinks that should be fairly easy to remember. A lot easier than whatever the nurses said. At least this was a number. And surely, she wouldn't be forgetting how to count any time soon, would she?

As he took note of the small sign relief that enveloped their faces. He recognizes their troubles and figures that if their mental state doesn't improve any time soon it would evidently cause problems for their training. And with no time to deal with those, he doesn't fail to tell them, "There is also no need for you to force yourselves to recall your lives prior to now. They will only hinder you and whatever you will face in the future."

Again, Eight thinks it was fairly easy condition.

Forget the past.

Don't look back.

It wasn't like she could remember who she had been no matter how hard she tried. If this old man was expecting just that from them, then maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be taken in by him.

Then again, there was one remaining issue, one that bears more weight than the rest of her worries.

So, it was her turn to ask more questions, "Where will we go? Will we stay together?"

She would refuse to go if they wouldn't. Even if they were powerless, she would do whatever it takes to be with her sister, the last remaining member of her family. There was no way she'd go just to be separated from each other.

But her worries were easily answered.

"You will be living together in the Umbrella Academy, and very soon you will be introduced to the rest of your siblings with similar circumstances," he explains, although it was a little difficult for the children to understand.

Eight gets a general idea of the concept. She catches on faster, more often than Nine, and the other girl could tell from her sister's expressions that the situation doesn't seem to be too bad.

Number Eight wasn't so fond of the tone the man in front of them spoke in, but she figures that she didn't have the privilege to be picky. He set out conditions they could meet, and she had Nine with her. It was more than enough.

At the mention of their future siblings, Number Nine manages to find the courage to speak. She lights up at the thought of a big family. There had been numerous people in the hospital who found their situation pitiful, although the children could barely understand the loss considering that they had no memory to hold onto. Perhaps now, with their new family they can make new ones to remember.

She was excited by the thought of what they'll gain as soon as they left this place. But at the same time, with one look at Sir Reginald Hargreeves, his cold demeanor dampens on her quick-lived joy.

"W-we—" the child stammers as she yearns to ask about their so-called siblings. She holds unto Number Eight's arm, intimidated by the man's presence, but the first sentence she attempted to say was immediately interrupted by his dismissive manner.

He takes a look at his pocket watch, as if they were running out of time and he had other matters to attend to. Which, knowing the eccentric billionaire who couldn't afford to show his children any form of affection, likely seemed to be the case.

"Further questions would be answered at your arrival. And I will also require you to refrain from speaking unless told. Failure to follow will always have repercussions," he cuts chastely, before striding towards the door of the room. "I shall see you then."

The door closes from behind him.

The two young children let out a sigh of relief, once the tense atmosphere finally disperses at his departure. Nine suddenly envelops her sister in hug; she was her only pillar of support. Eight returns the gesture, trying to seek relief from the ominous feeling they had of the strange man.

Unfortunately, things don't get better anytime soon.

* * *

It turns out, that it was right for them to have felt wary. The silence on the trip to their supposed new home was stifling and almost suffocating. No words were exchanged during the entire trip, just as the man commanded the first day they met him. The raindrops pelting on the car's window only seemed to heighten the gloomy and melancholic ambiance of the mansion. And when they finally stepped out of the vehicle, they followed behind him obediently, worried that from a single mistake, they would be forced to face great consequences.

To call the mansion _'big'_ was an understatement. For two young children in such petite bodies, it was _gigantic_. Having been stuck in a hospital room ever since the accident, they never exactly had any space to explore, nor any detailed memories of the outside world. Everything felt new. But now, it seemed like it would take a couple of days to see every inch of it.

At one point Eight wonders if she'll be able to find Nine if she ever got lost in one of the many rooms of their new home.

As soon as they enter through the front door, the pair of identical twins was surprised by the sight of a chimpanzee. "Welcome home, Master Hargreeves. The preparations are complete, and the children are waiting by the foyer"

Nine's eyes widen with wonder and excitement as she looks at the creature in front of her. The little girl has been clinging onto her sister's hand the entire time they followed the man out of the car, though it doesn't stop her from using her free hand to wave shyly at Pogo. The primate nods his head courteously in acknowledgement of their presence, a tight-lipped smile forms on his face.

Eight responds with a lot less interest and energy. She felt on the edge the entire time she was around their so-called father. She couldn't understand him— couldn't read him. She was just subservient enough not to get in trouble; well-aware of the fact that they had nowhere left to go.

So, she learns not to question authority, not until she finds a better option.

Number Nine tightens her grip on her sister's hand as they come across the said children. They stood in a line dressed in matching uniforms, arranged by numbers.

_Eight hears it._

The curious whispers. The sound of their voices wondering who they were, what they were here for, why hadn't they grown up with them, and where did they come from.

"Children," Sir Reginald stands in front of them. From the sound of his voice the youngsters straighten their posture. Fellow five-year-olds stood in front of the twins.

"I give you your new sisters, Number Eight and Number Nine" he introduces. "They shall join you in your lessons and training from tomorrow onwards."

"You may resume your scheduled activities" he dismisses them as soon as his announcement ends. He is the first to leave, followed by the kids who spared their new siblings more than enough glances.

Pogo takes charge from then, showing the little girls around their new home. They were introduced to Grace, who they learned to call their mother; informed about their daily schedules, that seemed too much to take in for children who were recovering from various injuries; and finally presented their separate rooms at the end of the hall, which oddly seemed like something cut out of an interior design magazine. Mom claimed that she designed it to make them feel at home.

Number Nine seemed to be quite accepting of everything, which slightly worried her elder twin sister. The little girl was completely taken to Grace who had so far shown them the warmest smile they failed to receive from anyone residing in the house. She takes her mother's hand whilst holding her sister's in the other, as they walk around the halls.

Number Eight, on the other hand, felt wary. She appreciated the silence that came around with Grace a lot more than Sir Reginald's; and she finds Pogo quite assuring, his emotions and personality seemed a lot more human than the very man who adopted them. Nevertheless, the unknown doesn't fail to make her feel cautious.

She still couldn't understand why they were chosen to come with him. Hargreeves himself, after all, doesn't seem like he was keen on being a father in comparison to the number of couples the adoption agency introduced to them. There was something about him that put her on the edge. Something about this house triggered an alternating state of feeling disturbed and feeling vigilant.

"Pogo?" she couldn't help but ask, out of the blue, "Why did he adopt us?"

"You and your sister are extraordinary, Miss. Just like the rest of your siblings," the chimp opted to explain in a level that children would understand. "On October 1st of 1989, 43 children with special powers were born around the world. You two were no exception."

As usual, she didn't understand specifics, but she always got the gist of what they wanted to say.

But from what she knew, it wasn't like she could breathe fire or make ice out of thin air, much like the people they watched on television back when they stayed in the hospital all day. She didn't have anything special.

"We don't have powers" Eight furrows her eyebrows.

"You may not realize it yet, but indeed you do, young miss" he tells her nonetheless, "Soon, both of you will recognize it and learn how to use it within the Umbrella Academy."

"Will we meet the others too?" Nine asks meekly.

"You'll have your chance, sweetie." their mother answers, putting a hand behind their backs, "But first, you should rest while you can. Would you two like something to eat?"

Number Nine nods happily, despite how her sister slowly let go of her hand to walk around a little more. Number Eight still had her defenses on, but she finds temporary comfort in the woman despite being made of metal and gears. She doesn't seem like she had any ill intent, and she was a whole lot easier to understand than anyone else in this house.

So nevertheless, despite only having met them on that day, Eight imitates her twin sister's smile, and answers nicely, "That would be nice, Mom."


	2. they say evil rains just as good must prevail

It came to a realization to the girl, that she extremely underestimated what Sir Reginald Hargreeves could make them do. Prior to the day they moved in, Number Eight believed that all she had to do was act like a good child. Listen to his words, follow through his commands. Apparently, she failed to recognize the fact that they weren't even going to be treated as mere children. They were raised as soldiers.

The first weeks of their training was, in summary, a nightmare. It was bordering the line of what was too much for children and what was just enough to make sure they wouldn’t have any new injuries. Both Eight and Nine had to force their recovering bodies to get used to the training required and memorize the basic combat stances just so that they could catch up to the others. Number Eight had felt so exhausted that at one point she felt like puking. The physical stress together with their other lessons continued to worsen as the days passed. She hadn’t felt well-rested ever since she came here.

The first meals they shared with their new family was hardly anything that assured her worries. It was tense. They were forbidden from speaking during mealtimes, but it didn't stop the curious glances sent their way or the tiny little voices that always had something to say about them. Eight doesn't like being the center of attention, much less a conversation topic. Her mind chants. Shut up. Shut up. _Shut up._

But she keeps her mouth shut, and she does what she could to ignore them. Nine follows suit, recognizing her sister’s feelings. She doesn’t dare think differently because she knows the other girl was under enough stress.

The children of the Umbrella Academy could hardly differentiate the twins from each other. It was like looking at a mirror, coming across a reflection of either one or the other.

In typical Number One fashion, the first child felt the need to be the one to inform them about how things worked around there. He told them about how neither of them had names, to begin with, what subjects they had to catch up on, who was who, and what their powers were. He asks them about their special training with Dad, just in case they catered more favor from him than the boy ever managed.

Number Two could barely spare any time to associate himself with two girls. He knows based on his experiences with Three and Seven, that they were not fun to hang out with. Girls didn't like playing messy or rough, they were just a bit too sensitive. Too emotional, too whiny and too picky. He’d rather not spend his long-awaited leisure time on them. Then again, he did feel a sort of pride when one of them —he couldn’t tell which— would ask him, of all people, about Mom.

Having been the only girl given special attention, Number Three couldn't decide whether she was happy to have new sisters or whether they were competition for Dad's affection. Not like he had any to spare. Nevertheless, she doesn’t treat them rudely. Even if a _tiny_ part of her did feel like they were a threat to her place in the house, she was truly happy that she could earn a couple of new friends in a house of grubby little boys.

Number Four was, in all honestly, ecstatic. He wants to approach them and finally have someone else to listen to his endless chatter apart from his current adopted brothers and sisters. He knows Six wasn't bad company, but it wasn't a shame to widen their little circle. It’d be a nice change to have more people hanging around him instead of the ghosts he also tried so hard to keep at bay.

As usual, Number Five couldn't care less. Sometimes they managed to spike his curiosity, but for all he knows, there was still none of the kids in their household that was as bright as he was. They were all struggling to reach what he had, and it was frustrating for the boy to tone himself down for the sake of others. They haven’t really done anything out of the ordinary though he had to admit, that if they were born on the same day and the same hour during the same miracle conception, he wonders about what their powers could be. His slight indifference doesn’t stop him from treating them the same way he does to his already existing gremlin siblings.

Number Six was a lot less outgoing than his siblings. He was recluse, but not as badly as Seven, considering that he often hung out with Four. They typically stuck together and we’re one of the closest duos in the house. Even so, as shy as he was, he doesn't think it would be bad to befriend the new girls. It was nice to gain a sister, considering that they were forced to outcast Seven as per their father's orders, and Number Three, on the other hand, always preferred playing princess rather than hanging out with them. He thinks having two new girls around would be a good change of pace, that way there would be less roughhousing, and it would turn out to be a lot more peaceful than before.

The last of the children, Number Seven had been since excluded after their father has claimed she was sick about an entire year ago. Considering that she was never trained with her brothers and sisters, none of them doubted their father's words as he claimed that she had no powers. And even she, who was brainwashed to believe that she was ordinary, dared not to speak against his orders. For someone so often excluded, she found hope in the thought of finally finding a companion, much less two new sisters.

Even so, the new environment they were facing was a little bit too much on the pair of identical twins.

The first few nights they had in the mansion, Number Nine comes knocking at her twin sister's door in the middle of the night. It was a typical ritual they formed, one where Nine would talk to her about almost anything until Mom finds out that one of them wasn't in bed and she would usher the other back into their room before tucking them in. Sometimes they would stare at the stars in silence, watching them twinkle from afar. Or they would watch the city lights, the soft yellow that illuminated the streets.

At first, Number Nine did it because unlike everyone else in the house, she found comfort in Eight.

Eight was steady. She doesn’t waver so easily, though even if she did, her words were always convincing. Eight was her constant— some sort of reminder that tells her she wasn’t alone in this house full of blue and grey. Because, even if they found Grace to have the warmest smile in the house (seeing as no one ever really did smile), for Nine, her sister was the warmest person, always determined to protect and assure her. They were allies.

As much as she appreciated their mother and the fact that she was so sweet and considerate (and definitely the kindest person in the house). Grace still wasn't completely human. There were certain aspects of others Nine couldn't find in Mom, unlike Eight who grew to find that those qualities of their mother were the most assuring part of her.

_Nine found it unnerving._

Because as it turns out, the pair of young girls stood corrected. Pogo was right, they did have powers. Well, it was definitely unlikely for a man like Hargreeves to go through the trouble to adopt a child he'd find no use for. Eight thinks she should have known better, but then again, they were merely kids and they were still in the process of wrapping their head around the concept that what they believed to be normal was apparently _not._

It was easy to understand their siblings' abilities, most were self-explanatory. In the simplest essence that a child could understand: One had brute strength; Two can throw well; Four can speak to ghosts; Five can pop up from anywhere; Six has tentacles; And if Three so desired, anything she said could come apparently come true. The last bit seemed like an intimidating idea as powerful as it was.

Number Eight had only been getting accustomed to the fact that what she thought were whispers were actually people's thoughts. It takes a lot to learn how to control her powers, like trying to turn off a faulty tap that was constantly leaking. She understands that her ability allows her to read minds, but at the same time, the noise so often confuses and overwhelms her. Most days she would rather do without it.

Number Nine's powers partially manifested itself in her ability to recognize people's emotions without any hint in their expressions and whatsoever. While Eight can hear their thoughts, she could sense their feelings. It was what they had known so far, based on their father's recent observations.

It made sense for Eight, as she realizes that it was why her twin sister often seemed to know when she felt uneasy. Nine had always been so quick to reassure her. Sometimes it came as a blessing, it allowed Nine to know when to be cautious and when to shut her mouth. It warned her of their father; the fact that she was unable to read his emotions unlike any other person they ever met, caused her to hide behind her sister the first time they encountered him. Nine’s power was the basis for her behavior, thus why she never really knew how to act around their mother, and she only ever thought about avoiding their father.

In the first place, unlike the people she met in the hospital who treated her kindly, she found it easy to tell that there was something wrong with this house. It was just so _different_.

The first tell-tale sign was the fact that she couldn’t sense anything from not just one but two people; the very beings who were supposed to act as their parents. She could hardly read her father, who she found extremely intimidating, much more than whatever monster was hiding under her bed. And aside from him, there was also their mother, who despite the warm smiles, was still a being she couldn't find a fragment of emotion from.

Number Eight had been the one to assure her that it wasn't as if their mother didn't have feelings, it was just that she was different. She wasn't someone she would be able to read. It had been her sister who taught her that she can't completely base her beliefs on what she saw with her ability. Their mother cares and Eight insists that it was easy to tell from her actions. She was a lot more human than their supposed father was, and Nine trusts her sister’s words more than anyone else’s.

But there were also other things that made her wary of their new home. As such, Nine could tell that nearly everyone's mood seemed to be dampened down. The children had the appropriate emotions as themselves, but with their father around, the atmosphere turns blue, dull and cold. She feels like she's submerged under a frozen lake in the middle of winter. She hates the fear that creeps behind her, aggravated by the feelings of dread radiated by everybody else. The little girl couldn't help but feel bad for everyone.

Nine says she wants to save them, but Eight tells her that she doesn't know how they could.

What tipped the scale though, was what Nine saw in Number Seven. Seven was _different_ , in more than many ways apart from how she was clearly pushed aside by their father, and apart from how everyone distanced themselves for her because she was _ordinary_. Number Nine finds the emotions of the girl a lot less vivid. She was muted as if there were something in her that kept her emotions to a minimum. Something that kept her at bay.

They never really gave it much thought until they were finally able to recognize what the simplest signs meant. They didn't put too much attention on it until they were finally old enough to understand more— to actually know things than just getting the gist of it.

* * *

Normal families gave gifts on a child's seventh birthday. The only thing the children of the Umbrella Academy received was their very own names from their robot mother since their father lacked the decency to call them something beyond the numbers that were assigned to them as infants. Surely their biological mothers had already given them names, but then again, they did give them away for some coins and blocks of cash. They deserved more than that in their lives.

And that was why Grace was more than enough.

Grace was their mother and she never failed to let them know that she loved them. It didn't matter if she was just a robot designed to act as a caretaker. She cared enough to grant them a name, and none of them wanted to refuse that. _Except_ for maybe two people (but _really_ it didn't have anything to do with holding something against Mom) _._

In the span of seven years, they had grown to believe that their numbers were a basis of their worth. One is the leader. It's always him who gets to say this and that; always so desperate to be Dad’s favorite. Two is only a second option. This causes him to be bitter; to pick fights with One because he always acts like he knows better than everyone. It leads to a constant competition because Two always wants to prove he's better than One, and One always wants to show that he earned his spot above Two.

Surely, it wasn’t the case, because it was impractical to have determined their worth from merely a few days of existence. A number was _just_ a number. It was a label slapped on to identify who from who, although it was a lot less conventional than the _norm_. But then again, they never did normal, not since they were born with powers that exceeded physical human abilities.

Even so, considering their father's apathy and lack of any sort of empathy, most of them failed to shake off the thought that their numbers _did_ mean something. Mom found an easy solution by choosing names for them, just as regular children deserved. She even went so far as to base it on their homelands.

The children finally learn that their numbers don’t define them.

They each take a turn to speak with their mother, remembering their names with utmost concentration before the others can memorize theirs. More often, the kids could recall their own name and maybe two or three others, but apart from that, they enjoy how they have to reintroduce themselves for others to remember them by it. It was like meeting each other for the very first time. Laughter illuminates the room, and their mother and Pogo smile fondly at them.

Having only been seven years old, the children weren't so keen on forming groups. They do continue to act according to their father and outcast Seven, but they didn't do it blatantly nor were they keen on doing so.

As welcoming as Number Nine was, she was often well-loved by those around her, easily the center of a number of people. They took turns spending time with her, which was why she rarely had the opportunity to include Seven with them since she was the one who was dragged around according to their whim.

Number Eight, for one, never really appreciated being in the middle of a sea of people. She stayed in the sidelines, although not completely hateful of others to be called a misanthrope. The girl simply liked quiet, and it was more often where Number Seven usually was.

From outside the circle of children who continue to chatter and talk about their newly given names, Number Eight walks towards the arch leading to the foyer as she settles for watching them from afar. In a span of two years, she learns how to control her powers. She can finally block off the whispers and the noise that often became too much in the midst of crowded areas, but old habits die hard, and the girl found herself unconsciously walking away from the group of people.

Her eyes catch one of her sisters' before she leaves the room, and she notices the pair of chocolate brown eyes watch her. Eight overhears her thoughts, noticing how the girl was repeatedly practicing her name alone, with no one to introduce herself to.

_'My name's Vanya—'_

_'—you can call me Vanya—'_

_'I'm Vanya, what's your name—'_

The corners of Eight's lips tug up to form a soft smile. Instead of completely seeking solace in a desolate area, she decides to switch routes and walks up to take the seat beside Seven instead.

"Vanya, right?" she double checks with her sister, although she was fairly certain that it was right considering that she did hear the girl mentally practice. Eight becomes the first person to call Vanya by her name, while the other girl becomes ecstatic to even be approached.

"You remembered my name?" the brunette looks at her sister in disbelief as if she herself believed that she wasn't worthy to feel included. She thought that out of everyone else, her name would have probably been the easiest to forget.

"Of course, I wouldn't forget yours. I made sure to remember everyone's," Eight assures her.

"You did?"

The girl nods and decides to enumerate to help Vanya recall the others.

"One is named Luther. Kinda boring isn't it?"

Vanya chuckles.

"Two goes by Diego, which oddly suits him."

The other girl continues to listen to her sister as she lists down all their names, with even a slight comment at each one.

"And then, Three is called Allison. I think it's nice."

"Four is now called Klaus, although he doesn't look like it."

"Then, Five is—"

"Still Five," a voice cuts her off, as another one of their siblings chooses to settle for the quiet instead of the circle of friendly laughter. "You can forget about whatever it was."

"You don't like the name Mom gave you?" Eight couldn't help but wonder.

" _No_. I just don’t see the point in a new one," Five shrugs, acting disinterested in the concept. It wasn't that he _didn't_ want a name, it was just that he _didn't_ so desperately want one. Unlike the rest of his siblings, he knows the numbers weren't anything special and he learns to embrace it rather than making a big deal out of it.

Besides, it wasn't as if anyone remembered the name Mom gave him, they were too busy recalling theirs. That's why it came as a partial surprise to learn that the very person who rejected the thought of earning her own, actually knew everyone's, including his.

"It _is_ pretty confusing to suddenly memorize a bunch of names in one go," Vanya agrees with Five, although clearly missing his point.

"You'll get used to it," Eight tells her, knowing that she was bound to in time. "Besides, the only ones you have to remember is that Six is Ben and Nine is Eliza."

"The least obnoxious and the most tolerable among the rest of the bunch" Five doesn't fail to remark.

Vanya turns to the girl beside her, noticing how she left herself out. So, she asks, "What about you, Eightie?"

"I'm still Eight" the other child answers casually, refusing to give more information than she sought, "Like Five here."

"What? Why?" brown eyes gaze at her, and the boy figures out from the way she averts eye contact, that it was highly unlikely for her to answer their sister's question anytime soon.

He replies for her, " _Well_ , I'd say I'm quite original and Eight's just a copycat."

"Why do you get to be original?" Eight, despite being thankful for the diversion, couldn't help but take note of the minor detail. She crosses her arms and faces the boy; blue orbs meet her eyes.

She had been the first one to reject the name. If anything, she was the _original,_ she wanted to say.

Five scoffs at her response and smiles smugly before reinstating his point, "You're already a twin, Eight. I don't think originality was ever your thing."

The two exchange a couple more words before their other siblings notice and joins in on their little circle; and for once, they even end up including Vanya in the conversation. And just like that, Vanya manages to forget the fact that Eight never really answered her question as to why she refused to take a name.

Number Nine, who now goes by Eliza Hargreeves, doesn't fail to ignore her twin sister's behavior. It may have been easy for them to accept Number Five's excuse, seeing as he claims it's a hassle and he doesn't even remember it himself. It was just Five being Five, with his typical indifference or emotional detachment.

Eight had been a completely different matter, and everyone was surprised by the fact that she of all people, rejected the notion. Most of their siblings easily accept the thought. Some don't think too much about it. Diego, for one, thinks it was rude to Mom who put the effort into thinking them up. Vanya was curious but she eventually lets it be.

But Eliza doesn't forget that easily. She keeps it in mind because she knows how her twin can be. She knows what she saw.

There was a small flicker of fear in Eight when it was her turn. Why Eight had the need to feel that way, was something Eliza failed to know, because while she knew how people felt, she would never be able to read her sister's mind. That was Eight's power after all.

Thus, there was only one way of pursuit. Eliza had to ask without beating around the bush. Which was exactly why she lounges in her twin sister's room once they've dispersed from their gathering downstairs.

"Eightie" she calls her sister by the nickname they so often called her. The name she made for her, that their other brothers and sisters took a habit of using.

"Something wrong?" Eight furrows her eyebrows, noticing the tone that Eliza spoke in. It was the very tone she used when she tries to be careful around their father or when she tries to calm either one of their brothers.

"Why didn't you take a name? You know, like the rest of us." the other girl trails on, before adding, "I mean, before Five decided not to use his, of course."

Eight chooses not to answer immediately.

It was a silly reason.

A part of her was scared, that just like before she'd eventually forget it anyway, much like what happened after the car crash. She was scared that it would be a catalyst of forgetting everything all over again. Her memories. Her identity. Her loved ones.

She knows she was lucky to still have Nine. And that she was even more than lucky to gain more people aside from her twin. But what if she loses more than what she did the last time? What if one day, she wakes up and she is brought upon an even worse situation than a dysfunctional family or a high-risk job?

The girl was terrified of the thought that one day, she would lose what she had as Number Eight; and although she knows it was irrational to think so, she'd rather not risk the chance.

She insists that it's not a big deal.

"You know you can't hide your feelings from me " Eliza mumbles, as she notices how her sister wasn't responding. But Eight was always so closed off, she could be as stubborn as a brick wall. Sometimes Nine wishes she was the one with the power to read minds.

"I could stick to my number too" the very same girl suggests after thinking of how she could possibly comfort her sister, just to make sure she didn't feel alone.

After all, they were reflections of each other. It wouldn't be too bad to stay alike.

But at this, Number Eight immediately speaks up, " _No_."

She knows how much her twin sister was looking forward to getting a name from their mother. The girl had even insisted that this time would be different, she won't forget it like the name that their birth mother gave them, the name that no matter how many times others said it, she couldn't seem to remember.

Eight would never dare take that happiness from her.

"No, don't. It's okay, El" she assures her sister, looking her in the eye to show just how much she meant it. She even makes use of a newly made nickname, just to make the other smile.

Eliza does, she breaks out a smile, though it's small and unsure.

"It's not a big deal" the girl continues to convince her, "I like being Eight. I like being _Eightie_."

"Okay," the other twin nods obediently, but her behavior still worries Eight.

Eight always worries. She has to. Although they were the same age as their siblings, she's still the older twin, and she would always have the desire to protect her blood sister just as much as she wants to help out everyone else in their weird little family.

"Don't ever feel obligated to sacrifice your happiness for others, okay?" Eight takes her hand, hoping she would understand.

Nine squeezes back.


	3. they say you have to let people in

The weather had been fair that day. The sun shone high in the azure sky, hiding behind the sea of clouds. The weather was perfect, much like those in the paintings their mother so loved to stare at during her free time. It was the outside world that Grace Hargreeves never had the privilege of knowing. The outside world that, like Number Eight grew to learn, was not as beautiful as it seemed.

Nevertheless, someday she wants to see the good in it just like how her mother does. She desperately seeks to explore what was beyond the lives that had been planned out for them since the day they were born. Since the mere age of ten, this desire causes her to bury herself under the books of the library whenever she can. She flips through pages of each novel as if she would find another world. She would commit each word to her mind.

Number Eight would often be followed by her twin sister, Eliza. The other girl would sit beside her, fiddling with the hem of her skirt, while Eight would read the stories out loud. Eliza knows there was also the option to read the book quietly herself, but she always insisted it was a lot more entertaining to hear the words come out of her sister's mouth.

Sometimes Vanya would join them in the library of the mansion, much like their other siblings like Allison, Ben, or even Five.

More often, the girls were there because either of their sisters was. Vanya would help Eliza with her studies, considering that she was advanced without the mandatory training everyone went through. Eight would read a different book, stuck in her own world, while her sisters were absorbed in some lecture she couldn't bother to know. Allison was there when she wanted someone to talk to. Eliza would have a conversation with her, and sometimes Eight would give a couple of passing comments, eyes never leaving the novels she read.

Ben had always been fond of literature; he was a regular at the area. He used to pick some books to bring to his room, or he would exchange recommendations with his sisters. Sometimes they would even discuss their favorite parts in the stories they shared with each other, and other times he was the one reading out loud to Eliza. Klaus tags along from time to time, claiming he had nothing better to do. Eliza would tease that he just wants to be a part of the conversation, and he would joke around as if it weren't the truth. Eventually, they form a little group.

Number Five, being such a bright child, was there in pursuit of knowledge but more often just to kill time. He spends less attention on the corner his siblings frequented. The books they've read were something he had gone through a couple of years before they did. Sometimes he spares a glance at them or even sits nearby. More often, he goes there to read books that were too complicated for his age to understand. Some of which, he tries to learn, in order to understand his powers.

Much like Eight who had a habit of trying to find an escape from reality, the boy had a habit of trying to understand the unknown,

Eight and Nine used to be inseparable. They were stuck to the hip ever since they came there, and they were together so often that it made it hard to tell them apart. Having spent years together, most of their siblings learn how to.

You can distinguish one from the as long as you can tell apart their personalities.

Eliza more so often approached others first. It was partially due to her empathic ability. This makes her sensitive to other's feelings, more often taking it upon herself to provide them support and comfort; the very things they lacked in their dysfunctional home. At her actions, the girl easily earns affection from nearly all of their siblings.

She tells them the very things they _wanted_ to hear.

Praise for Luther. Acknowledgment for Diego. Friendship for Allison. Comfort for Klaus. Assurance for Ben. Companionship for Vanya. Although Five and Eight were the most self-sufficient of their siblings, she always makes sure that they know that she was there when they needed her. The girl was the ally they wanted.

Eight, on the other hand, was always a lot more reserved. She was a private person. Naturally, she could read their minds, but no one ever really got read hers. She wasn't hostile nor was she determined to be alone. And in the same way, she wasn't as well-liked, but she was never hated by anyone either. She was always in the middle ground.

Eight was Eight. When tilted sideways, it could appear as a pair of glasses or even a pair of binoculars.

She watches things happen from afar, carefully observing, but ready to stand up for someone when she has to. Always knowing both sides of the story, she was the bridge of communication none of the children seemed to be adept at. Eight doesn't always speak, but when she does, it was always the things people _needed_ to hear. She was the defense that they needed.

Sometimes their powers came as more of a blessing than a curse, but other times it doesn't.

When they age past eleven, the children start forming groups. It was by this time that their personalities start to show color; they become easy to distinguish. They realize their differences, and the clash of characteristics causes both synergy and dissonance.

Luther had always been on Dad's side. He was so blinded by his loyalty, that he never tried hard to see through the problems of the man's actions. It makes him hard to get along with, but sometimes his devotion to others makes him a better person. Qualities of his, Allison learned to understand. They had their own world that their siblings choose not to intrude on, and as the years pass, they grow closer.

Diego was a lone wolf. He has evident tension with Number One, so no doubt they wouldn't be stuck in the same group. Other times, he caused trouble with his brothers or even had some small talk with his sisters. He wouldn't deny that he liked spending time with Mom. And the sister he was closest to happened to be Eliza, who was always there to calm him down or to listen to him shit talk their father. Other times, he hung out with Klaus and Ben, playing pranks on Allison or Luther. But more often than not, he did things his own way; be it reckless or impulsive.

Vanya was the misfit. She was alone without wanting to be alone. A couple of her siblings would feel bad about it, and they took turns spending time with her. Although, nowadays, their words turn sharper as their training grew harder. Then again, even with the considerate attitude of a handful of her siblings, their differences were still apparent. Vanya always found it hard to feel included.

Klaus and Ben were naturally inseparable, and sometimes people would come to think just who exactly were the twins in the family. Eliza, despite how she managed to form a close relationship with the vast majority of her siblings, was closest to Klaus and Ben. The trio's friendship started simple, merely from their little book club in the library. But rather than a book club, it only really consisted of Klaus, who was there just to chat in an attempt not to be left alone to face the dead spirits he so often saw; Ben, who was actually the only one doing all the reading; and Eliza, who was there to listen to them and comfort them with her presence.

The more they explored the potential of their powers, the more it influenced their behavior. As soon as the younger twin discovers more about her ability, that she can steal people's emotions just as she could overwrite them; she immediately uses it to comfort Klaus, who had always been haunted by nightmares from all the moments Dad trapped him in mausoleums. She takes his fear from him, the same way she calms Ben down whenever he had to use his powers.

Her altruistic gestures don't stop at that.

Most times, she acts as a mediator in their fights. She takes Diego and Luther's anger when things get too rough. She takes Vanya's loneliness when she gets too sad.

She acts as if she were obligated to help every single person in the house and, honestly, it worries Eight.

Eight always worries. She hides it so well. Sometimes, she runs away from her sister, just to make sure she wouldn't be another case for Eliza to work on. She thinks the girl has too much on her plate.

Then again, to be honest, Eight wasn't any better.

* * *

The moment their father realizes the empath's growth, he immediately seeks to assess the other twin's powers. It was no secret that their abilities were similar. Therefore, if one can go beyond sensing emotions, then surely the other can go beyond hearing people's thoughts.

With Sir Reginald's insistence on discovering her potential, Number Eight's training becomes more difficult than it already was. He forces her to attempt to enter their minds, using each of her siblings at his disposal.

She despises the thought of invading their minds, while they hate the fact that they had no say on the matter. None of them were too keen on the idea of exposing themselves to the telepath. It was bad enough that she could read their thoughts on a whim, but entering minds was a completely different story.

She would see everything; their deepest secrets, their private memories— all the good and the bad. She would see the ugliest parts of them, everything they ever hid. No one would voluntarily show the things they tried so hard to keep, much less have her expose it to their father.

They know Eight wouldn't double-cross them like that. But there was still a difference between having someone discover the truth and having voluntarily tell someone themselves. When she finds out what she shouldn't, they would never be able to treat her the same way they used to; and none of them were too keen on the idea.

The first few days made everyone feel on the edge. Luther and Diego never failed to make their displeasure known. Allison, Five and Ben had the decency to at least not vocalize it. Klaus honestly thinks that she doesn't deserve to see the dark corners of his mind. There was already enough damage for him to see the things he did; he thinks she doesn't have to go through it as well. Eliza was forced to tame their nerves, the negative emotions her siblings held unto was heightening her own.

Eight doesn't get a say in any of it. Dad's orders were absolute. She could never defy him although she desperately wanted to.

The first time they had done it, she could barely crack their barriers. Her siblings were tough to crack, and the fact that they were repelling her wasn't helping the process. Her brothers and sisters take turns being her partner, and they spend painstaking hours trying to fight her penetration of their minds while she attempts to force her way in. It was like clawing her way through a stone wall with only her bare hands.

On the fifth day, she waits for Dad to pick today’s victim. No one knows that the faucet that used to block out the noises turned faulty. They thought she had control over the voices by now, but it was back— and perhaps even stronger. Some thoughts were louder than others, and there were also the secrets that were voiced like whispers. Their thoughts overlap with each other.

_'Not this again—'_

_'—I hope I'm not today's chosen one.'_

_'I don't want her in there'_

_'—When will it be over with?'_

_'If she could just do it, it would end quicker.'_

_'If it weren't for her, we wouldn't be treated like sacrificial lambs—'_

Eight thinks that her relationship with her siblings would never be the same, even if she didn't manage to dive deeper into their minds. Words easily hurt and that was why people tended to think twice before speaking, but thoughts were raw and instinctive; they hurt twice as much.

She stares at her feet as she tries so hard to block out the never-ending noise that she ends up oblivious to whom their father had chosen to be her training partner for the day. The next thing she knows the other six children shuffle out of the room to resume their combat training.

The room is enveloped in silence when they leave. It had been a long time since she felt the comfortable silence. The girl almost thinks that she was pardoned from her personal training, but it was too good to be true.

And it was.

She snaps out of her momentarily relief as her father clears his throat and commands strictly, "Number Eight. _Focus_."

It was then that she realizes that her partner's thoughts were just oddly softer. The voice of his mind was a lot subdued than others. Emotions always made them louder. But there was no malice and no fear.

Surprised by their calmness, she looks up.

Blue eyes meet her own, as he sits in front of her.

She couldn't help but just stare as if she was stuck in momentarily shock.

 _'What?'_ Five quirks an eyebrow and asks her mentally, as if he already knew she could hear him.

She's surprised to find him acting so casual about their situation, but nevertheless, she tries to resume focus.

There was a great disparity between the heart and the mind. The mind was complicated like a web that tangles itself around each and everything that it touches. The surface was nothing in comparison to what lay beneath. And once you delve into it, it simply gets deeper. It was a bottomless well, and it was impossible to access every single aspect.

To make sure she had a notion of the mind, her father had made sure to ingrain the concepts, through theories and concepts of Psychology that may have been too complicated for her to understand. In essence, the psychodynamic principles of Sigmund Freud were probably the best description. In its simplest form, the mind could be divided into three factors, namely: (1) the conscious, (2) the subconscious, and (3) the unconscious.

The first portion was fairly easy to access, Eight can often connect with it; their passing thoughts. To get to the next, she needs to dive deep from the surface. She can pass through a gate, depending on how hard she was being resisted. But when she does get past it, she'll fall through a hall of the doors, the contents of the subconscious mind; their memories, and stored knowledge. Those doors weren't locked, but they could be incredibly hard to open. A lot further down the hall, lay the deepest parts of the mind. Those were the ones protected by locks; the portion people try so hard to hide. But if she could barely access the nearest doors then how could she even manage to open those that were kept locked?

Perhaps in due time, she would be able to delve deeper and even burst through doors if she so desired, but as of the moment, she could barely get through the surface. She lacked the experience, and everyone had been so adamant about keeping her out.

The surface of one's mind takes a different shape from another's. In a way, it worked similarly to a portal. On the surface, she would be able to hear their current thoughts being magnified, the sound of the world around her is completely blocked out. She would always find a reflection of herself, but otherwise, the environment was completely different from another.

The entrance varies from person to person. So far, Luther's was a window of a brick house; Allison's was mirror in the middle of a sophisticated ornate bedroom; Diego's was a puddle in a rainy street; Klaus' was a swamp, its edges were dark as if it were slowly getting corrupted.

And the result of each session goes simple: she couldn't open Luther's stupid window; she couldn't break Allison's mirror; she manages to get past Diego's surface only to find out all his doors were closed shut; and last time, she got stuck in Klaus' murky swamp.

Unlike her other four siblings, Five's was a fresh sight. It was an ocean that was so calm, it reflected the sky. She easily dives into it without any resistance, and when she gets past it, she is brought to the usual hall of doors.

Naturally, his subconscious thoughts are closed off. It would take a lot of prying to even open any of the doors. But when a particular one calls out to her, she doesn't hesitate to reach out for it. Almost as if Five was willingly showing her, the door opens at a tap of a finger.

She thinks it was because he actually pitied her for her lack of success these days. And knowing their father, if she doesn't improve anytime soon there would be a shit ton of consequences she'll have to face. Then again, this was Five. So, she tries not to assume, because out of all her siblings she knows he's actually the most private of them all and he doesn't do charity.

But she sees through his memory, without any resistance from him.

The particular scene wasn't anything special, it was one of their boring old lectures about history or literature, she didn't really know which, considering that she never paid too much attention. She couldn't care less, and as children, it wasn't as if they would understand The Illiad or The Odyssey even if they tried, especially if they were forced to memorize it in the original Greek.

Then again, Number Five, as per usual, had a good understanding of it unlike the rest of his siblings. Hell, he was probably a week advanced. And when she sees the memory through him, it's almost like she gets to borrow his mind. She finds herself gaining an understanding of things the way he did.

In particular, her eyes lay on a specific phrase in the book.

[ **_Few sons indeed are like their fathers; most are worse, few better than their fathers. But since neither hereafter shalt thou be a base man or a witless, nor has the wisdom of Odysseus wholly failed thee, there is therefore hope that thou wilt accomplish this work._** ]

Eight wanted to laugh. Here was Five shit-talking their father in his own smart-ass ways. She felt an odd sense of comfort in the fact he actually willingly showed her a memory, and it was incredibly well-suited to the state she was in. A part of her thinks he was cheering her on, but she knows he wasn't the type of person to do so. She ends up brushing it off.

The next thing she knows, her eyes snap open, and she's brought back to reality. Five is looking back at her, and she could tell that he's trying to bite back the smug smirk on his lips. He may have voluntarily helped Eight this time, but she knows the next time they paired up he'd be giving her a challenge. It was almost as if he wanted her to get over the easy level, to move onto something less boring.

"Nine minutes and thirty-one seconds" their father declares the span of time it took for her to access his mind. The amount of time that passed when she used her ability always seemed slow compared to reality, but the great reduction in her usual average definitely doesn't go unnoticed. It was faster compared to the other four times she practiced.

He commands as if demanding an explanation, "Number Eight, report your progress."

"It's the farthest I've been," she admits. "I managed to get past his surface and conjure a memory."

Eight leaves out the fact that Five went easy on her. It would only get both of them in trouble.

"Elaborate," Sir Reginald Hargreeves prompts her, as he quickly writes it down in his notebook. The speed of his movement was almost mechanical.

"It was just one of our lectures that happened a week ago, about Homer and his works,” Eight says, leaving out which quote it was. Five knows she won’t tell on him, but she does give out enough details to make sure their father wouldn't ask more questions. “Five was on Book 2 of the Odyssey if I recall correctly.”

There was a moment of silence as the man concentrated on jotting down his notes. Thereafter, he speaks as if it were an afterthought, "Exemplary work."

"Both of you are now dismissed, resume lessons with the rest of your siblings. I shall give you five minutes to catch up to them" he then adds, before the two children rush out to change into their training gear.

Today went better than the other days. The girl feels grateful for the temporary relief she was granted.

* * *

The boy had always been a free spirit. He willed to go wherever he yearned to, and he did whatever he desired. Although he always stood out in comparison to his siblings, considering that he was heads above the rest. No matter how advanced he was for his age, Number Five always chose to do this at his own pace.

One of his most dominant traits was his desire to understand the unknown. And for that reason, the boy had the ability to notice the simplest details. His observant trait is what causes him to notice that something was out of place.

Eight had been acting unusual.

It wasn't as if he had a specific interest in Number Eight. It was simply hard not to notice the change in her current demeanor.

Number Eight had always been a private person, but it wasn't as if she pushed people away. She would talk to the person farthest from the crowd, join in the circle to give a few words or even tag along with her twin sister who was always the most social in the house. She was always accepting of company and everyone fairly got along with her. At least, that was how she used to act.

Ever since their siblings started getting wary of her power, Eight had been slowly closing in on herself. She had been putting people at arm's length, careful not to let anyone in. Whether it was for her sake or others', it was difficult to tell. Perhaps it was partially done in consideration of their comfort or perhaps it was because the hurt was difficult to forget. The only thing for certain was that she would often leave the room unnoticed, almost as if she vanished into thin air.

Five wasn't the only one who seemed to have become aware of her behavior. At some point, everybody does.

Eliza had been trying to look around the house for her twin as soon as she notices the girl’s disappearance, and Vanya would accompany her search when given the chance. The more often it happened, the more it seemed to catch everyone’s attention, to the point that they all had their fair share of trying to find her.

It was a game of hide-and-seek that no one had ever won.

Eight always came back unscathed, acting as if nothing happened. Her disappearing acts then become a normal occurrence and soon enough, everyone, with the exception of her twin sister, learn to leave it be.

Although he’d like to say that he didn’t really care, the boy coincidentally finds her without meaning to. It was late afternoon during the moments when they were free to do as they liked. His siblings were preoccupied with their own things and he was practicing his spatial jumps as his father told him to. He had been trying to discover his limit, or how long it could take before he’s too exhausted to blink away. So, he ends up teleporting to nearly every inch of the mansion they lived in.

When he was alone in the most desolate hallway, he hears it.

_The door clicked._

It wasn’t unusual to hear the sound of someone entering a room, but for as long as he could remember, there wasn’t anyone in sight and the only closed door happened to be one that was always kept locked. He blinked into it once, only to find out that it was a dusty old closet lit by a single window.

At first, he wonders who entered it. It couldn't have been their father who showed no signs of leaving his office; nor was it Pogo, who he happened to pass by on the way there. More importantly, this was on the other side of the house, possibly the most isolated area. So, he goes with his gut and blinks into the room despite the fact whoever entered clearly didn't want anyone in there with them.

To his surprise, he ends up discovering Number Eight's secret hideout.

He finds the girl sitting by the nook of the window, a pile of books beside her. It was a lot cleaner than he remembered, which made sense considering how she likely frequented the place. She was so absorbed in whatever she was reading that she failed to recognize the boy standing in front of her. Five doesn't speak, he waits for her to look up and when she does, she jolts up and closes her book shut.

She looks at him as if she saw a ghost, and immediately snaps at him as soon as she regains her senses, " _Chiz_ —don't do that!"

A smirk slowly forms on his face, as if he purposely freaked her out. "What you up to there, Eight?" the question slips past his lips once he finally speaks up, "From what I remember this room is off-limits."

"And yet, you're here with me" the girl retorts, looking back at his blue eyes challengingly.

"So, this is where you've been hiding every time you disappear, huh?" Five continued to explore the small room, observing all the changes the girl made, from the tiny lamps to the collection of novels that had gone missing from the library.

Her eyes follow him, narrowing slightly as she wonders what his intentions were, "What? Are you going to tell on me?"

" _No_ " he answers rather quickly, before turning to her and furrowing his eyebrows, "Do you take me as some _obnoxious-daddy's-boy-with-a-pea-sized-brain_ like Luther?"

She doesn't necessarily confirm or deny his implication, but he acts as if he took offense in the possibility she did.

"I'd like to say that I am perfectly adept at reading social cues, and you clearly don't want company" Five adds, and Eight couldn't tell if he was just assuring her that he could keep a secret; or if he just wanted to prove that with his superior intellect, he could tell the reason why she disappears in the first place.

"Well, as long as you keep your word then I don't mind _your_ company. But Pogo only gave me one key so you'll have to blink in and out" Eight sets her books aside and pats the space beside her, motioning for him to sit down, but not before adding "And you _absolutely_ can't tell anyone or else, you're a worse human being than some _obnoxious-daddy's-boy-with-a-pea-sized-brain_ like Luther."

He knows why she's in there. Five doesn't need her to explain why she constantly hid herself in this part of the house. He perfectly gets it. Hearing people talk day and night could be unbearable. Hearing their thoughts the whole time could be even more so. The boy was well aware that she needed a break from others, what he fails to understand though, was the fact that she didn't seem to mind the fact that _he_ , of all people, was intruding on her privacy.

"If you’re going to threaten me to keep a secret then why invite me into your secret fort? You could've kicked me out" He asks her, despite sitting beside her, nonetheless.

" _Eh_. I'd say you're the most tolerable of the bunch" a teasing smile forms on her face, using the same words he often used to describe his favorite siblings.

"I mean, I _know_ that our siblings have the tendency to share a single brain cell, but I never did anything special to make you think _that,_ " he tells her as if he was requesting an explanation, "So, do enlighten me."

"I don't know" the girl shrugs, realizing that she never got to thank him, "For one, you let me in your mind. I owe you one, so I let you in my fort"

"I didn't necessarily do it for _you_. The faster you did it the faster we got out of it"

"I know" Eight nods slowly, before explaining her side, "But unlike everybody else, you didn't exactly fear my power to see through you. It's refreshing to see how you mean what you think. You keep secrets but you don't put up some farce."

"Well, I can never get used to your quirks. It makes a lot more sense to face you directly," Five replies as if it weren't obvious enough.

"You're seriously calling me _weird_?" the girl furrows her eyebrows in response, "Have you met our siblings? Do you _know_ our siblings?"

She wonders why he'd think that. After all, one of their brothers had a father-complex, another had a mother-complex, and don't even get her started on Klaus, who somehow manages to set his room on fire. If anything, she'd like to assume that she was rather _normal_ , even if in regard to their powers.

"I'm just saying," he reinstates his point, "It's easy to expect that others would act accordingly to how they behave, but you act outside of the caricature of yourself. They say you're the quiet one but sometimes you speak your mind out. You never let anyone talk you down, but you go out of your way to please them."

At his words, she thinks about it carefully. How she had been a pushover in regard to herself, putting her distance to make them feel comfortable around her; but when it came to others she always spoke up in their defense, usually watching over Eliza or Vanya. How she never really tried to fit in the crowd, but she was still concerned about what they thought of her. How she always told her twin sister to prioritize her feelings before trying to fix others; but when it came to herself, she always put up with her emotions, never letting anyone help.

 _Okay_ —sometimes she may have been a bit capricious, but she doesn't think that would warrant him to call her quirky.

"You're a rather peculiar one" Five finishes his statement.

But Eight remains unconvinced, so she counters, "Says the boy who eats peanut butter marshmallow sandwiches"

He looks at her flatly, and she refuses to back down from his gaze. He takes offense in her statement.

"It's a delicacy," the boy defends himself. "You have absolutely _no_ taste."

And at that, she lets out a soft laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reference for the quote used:  
> Homer, Odyssey. (n.d.). Retrieved from http://data.perseus.org/citations/urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0012.tlg002.perseus-eng1:2.267-2.308


	4. they say you don't need words to understand

Ever since she let Five in, they inevitably grew closer as they shared the small room between them. The window emits the light of the day sky, spreading it across their hideout that contained the slightest remnants of themselves.

A soft lamp illuminates their skin at sundown, as they flip through the pages of a variety of books. The boy would sit and explain the ones he read that were often too complicated for them to understand, while she would question the small things. She would ask about the aspects that were overlooked by everyone else; from the simple thought of why the sky was blue to the complicated analysis of why people behaved in certain ways. More often, they engage in a discussion of why the characters did this or that.

Other times, they end up in a philosophical debate; with him making logical fact-based arguments and her simply twisting his words to the point that sometimes it doesn't even make sense. Five would tell her that she was absolutely insufferable, and she would let out a laugh, claiming it's a victory for managing to rile him up. Though, if he had to be honest, her behavior never really managed to irk him.

They never say it out loud, but they don't deny the fact that they enjoyed the simple moments they spent together in their little safe space.

The first time he reads out loud to her, she finally understands why her sister preferred listening instead of reading. She likes the sound of his voice (though she would never admit that to his face). It was calming, a stark difference to the noise of the overlapping thoughts of others. She appreciates how he keeps her grounded.

The boy, on the other hand, enjoyed the moments he was given the opportunity to show off his impressive knowledge on an array of things. Better yet, he was given a chance to have a discussion on it. From an intellectual standpoint, she wasn't bad company; but in truth, the boy simply liked the fact that there was someone who understood him— _that someone was willing to listen_. He would never tell her, but if he was being completely honest, he appreciated her company a lot more than he made it out to be.

Eight used to think Five would the last person she'd get stuck in a room with. She used to be a lot closer to their other siblings; Diego, the lone wolf, or Vanya, the outcast, included. They may have exchanged passing words, but they never went of their way to spend time together. But, ever since then, Five ends up knowing her just as much as she knew him, and at that point, the girl didn't need to use her powers to know what's on his mind.

To put it simply, in a matter of a few years, Five and Eight were close, even compared to the girl's relationship with her twin sister. Eight doesn't mind opening up to Five. He doesn't attempt to fix her problems; he simply listens and tells her what he thought of it. And for someone who hated the thought of being a burden to others —and for someone who had always heard people say one thing and think another— she appreciated his bluntness more than anything else.

They end up spending a lot more time together, forming their own little group, much like Luther & Allison or Klaus & His Minions (as the seance liked to call his other two siblings).

Though, like the passing years, their training to prepare for their lives as superheroes also take a turn for the worse, as if their cold-hearted father decided that they hadn't suffered enough. For instance, their sparing lessons used to exclude the use of their powers, considering that the kids were all different in that aspect and that difference was too disadvantageous to limit to a specific criterion. Now, it almost felt like they were naive to never think about how their father's cruelty could surpass their expectations.

And because of that, they were faced with a great dilemma— _at least for half of them_.

After all, they were being pitted against each other all the while testing their abilities. Luther and Diego needed to learn how to hold back and how to control their powers. Five and Eight had to learn how to test theirs to the limit, considering that timing had been a fatal aspect of their ability. The remaining four had been the ones who simply maintained their current regimen; Klaus', Eliza's and Allison's ability not being suited for combat, and Ben's being too dangerous to use against the rest of their siblings.

As a result, Luther was paired up with Five, Diego with Eight, Allison with Eliza, Klaus with Ben; and they fight until their father concludes the match.

For the first match, Number Five takes the win quite easily. He overpowers Luther with speed and his ability to teleport. The other boy often sacrifices his speed for power, while Five managed to pace himself with skill. He instantly exhausts the blonde, who, out of frustration, ends up hitting aimlessly at one point. Luther ends up getting an earful from their father, nevertheless, they both come out of it unscathed.

_Eight and Diego weren't as lucky._

For one, reading people's movements based on their thoughts took a lot more time than she wanted. Her brother tries his best not to actually hit her, but their father notices immediately and calls him out for it. Despite his hesitance, he grew to believe that their father wouldn't let them off easy until he took things seriously.

So, even though it kills him inside, Diego truly does aim for her. And the following moments that he did, some knives graze her and landed her a number of cuts. And every single time she takes the blow of his knife; the boy feels like he was taking a blow to his chest.

He hated how he couldn't speak up against _this_.

Even so, their father continues demanding. He spouts sharp words at the girl and she willed herself to read his mind even faster. _Faster. Faster. Faster._

_But it isn't enough._

Eight continues to return to her stance as per their father's orders, doing her best to ignore the pain that seeps through her veins. She doesn't allow herself to show the slightest sign of complaint or weakness. She bottles it up because she knows that if she shows even the slightest flinch, she'll easily get into trouble.

And eventually, Diego throws a knife accurately enough to land an injury on her thigh.

The boy's eyes widen at the realization of his actions. He feels like he's drowning, and his hands inevitably start shaking. Eight fails to stand back up. She bites the inside of her cheek as she suppresses a scream from the pain.

It was excruciating.

Her body was past exhaustion, and the blood continues to gush out of her wounds. Diego couldn't bear another moment, and the guilt in his chest made it harder to breathe. The rest of their siblings found the sight unbearable; they couldn't watch another second of what was happening in front of them.

Sometimes, the girl couldn't help but wonder if their father was out to kill them. But as the thought settles, everyone hears the stern voice they were so familiar with.

"Enough," after what seemed like an eternity, Sir Reginald Hargreeves finally speaks, "I do not wish to continue witnessing such subpar performance."

She wanted to scoff— _wanted to ask if the sight of her being beaten up was all for a grade on a sheet of paper._ But she holds it in.

"Have your mother tend to your injuries if you so wish. However, next time I will not be as complacent," he dismisses the girl, but not without his usual lecture, "You must learn the consequences of not following through the expectations I've imposed on you, Number Eight. You must not only reflect on your actions but also on how it may affect those around you because your weakness could put the rest of the team at grave risk."

She knows that. _Fuck_ —She _knows_ that she can't afford to mess up on an actual mission. Her siblings would be in danger. It would be _her_ fault. It would be the last thing she wanted.

But even so, it doesn't stop the growing feeling inside her.

Eight, as usual, decides to cover everything up. She ignores the pain and the hate inside her. Trying to concentrate all her energy to will herself back up. She tries to get back on her feet.

Diego does his best not to seethe at the man, as he attempts to offer his hand to help his sister. But instead of taking it, the girl simply puts a hand between them as if to convince him she's fine. _No one buys it_ , but they don't fight her on it. They know that if their father witnesses them assist her in any way, Eight would end up taking the fall.

When Sir Reginald commands the next pair to take their stances, Eliza and Allison had to drag their feet and ignore the fact that not long ago, their sister was laying on the same ground, wounded and barely able to stand. From the corner of their eyes, they could see Eight, limping as she makes her way out of the door.

Eliza felt the turbulent emotions of her twin sister consume her; she hates it. She wishes she could take her pain away. She wishes she could take _everyone's_ pain away.

Allison felt just as helpless, her worry eats her from the inside out. She couldn't bear to look at the floor decorated with the fresh droplets of crimson.

Diego felt beyond guilty, he couldn't even bear to look at her, nor could he make eye contact with anyone else. They don't blame him, but he hates the fact that he allowed his father to take control of their situation. It takes everything in him to hold back the tears threatening to fall as he clenches his hands in frustration.

Klaus and Ben felt bad for not being able to at least offer any sort of assistance. Luther understood that their father was doing it for their sake— to teach a lesson, but even he thinks it's gone too far. Still, he let it happen.

Five has had enough of this shit. While everyone yearns to chase after her, they don't manage to muster up the courage to speak up. _But he does_. He has already created a reputation for himself, in which he had constantly been the only one who has ever stood up to their dear old dad. It makes it easier to speak his mind.

He was fed up with it, so he speaks through gritted teeth, trying to bite back the disrespect he so badly wants to express, "May I be excused?"

Eliza almost lets out a sigh of relief, but she holds it back, hoping their father wouldn't notice. She knows she wouldn't be permitted to leave either; both she and Allison had their father's attention. So, she settles for giving him a look of gratitude, as if to say that she was counting on him.

"For what reason?" Sir Reginald Hargreeves inquires like he hadn't just seen one of his adopted children limp out of the room with a bleeding leg and more than enough wounds.

Five remains unwavering, as he explains his defense, "I am concerned for Number Eight's wellbeing, and as I have understood, my match has already ended."

"I do not permit you to chase after your sister. The results of her incompetence are not a valid excuse. You will stay here as I see fit" the older man barks back.

"If I recall correctly, _Dad_." the boy almost snaps, " _You_ were the one who was always insistent on teamwork. So, once again may I request to check on my _teammate_ who has suffered injuries from their fight?"

"I have stated my case, you will refrain from leaving this room until the last match. I forbid you for speaking about this subject once more," their father's voice remains stern, with not an ounce of pity.

Five doesn't care. He decides to leave anyway, storming out the door without sparing so much as a second glance at their father, despite the sound of the man's voice demanding he stay back.

* * *

When the boy walks out to the hallway in search of Number Eight, it takes a couple of moments of walking around to find her slumped against the wall. He figured it was going to happen, considering the state she left in. That's why, although he was never one for physical contact, Five doesn't hesitate to take her arm and wrap it around his shoulders. Their position manages to provide her support, allowing her to take the necessary steps back to her room. But Eight doesn't let him help her out that easily.

Although the girl is surprised to see him outside, knowing full well that their sparring session wasn't over, she wasn't exactly relieved. Sure enough, from the way their father acted, she was sure as hell that he wasn't sent to help her. The girl was in enough trouble, she'd rather not drag anyone else down with her; and Five being Five, she thinks he likely exchanged a couple of words with their father.

So, she manages to muster a few words along the lines of, "I'm fine. I can handle myself."

It doesn't convince the boy at all.

Eight had always been insistent on taking care of herself to an unhealthy standpoint. She never counted on anyone else; and although it does worry the people around her, they never managed to convince her otherwise.

"Five, go back."

Her stubbornness doesn't fail to piss him off.

"You can be _really_ insufferable, you know that?" he sighs, keeping an arm on her waist as they walked towards their destination. He makes sure to support her as she leans her weight on him. "Don't try to bullshit me when you can't even walk in a straight line, Eight."

She knows how much he meant his words, so she doesn't fight him on it. Eight doesn't utter a single thing the entire time, knowing better than to bring it up again. Therefore, instead of complaining, as soon as they reach her room she sits on the edge of the bed and waits patiently like Five tells her to. He goes to get their mother.

Mom patches up her injuries, quickly and precisely but gently. She kisses the girl's forehead to comfort her after a long day, and it takes everything in her not to cry. Her mother notices and takes the child's hand in hers, as if to assure her that everything was going to be fine. Grace promises to make cookies later that day to make up for her mood before leaving the room. And all that time, Five simply watches from the entrance of the room.

A moment later, when their mom leaves, they hear a knock from the door. The boy continues to lean on the doorframe, even as Eight lets Diego into the room.

She knows what their brother was there for. She knows that he was the one who gave her the injuries she got in the first place, but she also knows that he didn't want any of it. She knows he was a victim of their father just as much as she was, and she knows they never really had the luxury to go against him.

Diego tries to will the words out of him, but his emotions always get in the way of what he wanted to say. He was so determined to give his sister an apology that he ignores Five despite how the boy refused to give them any privacy. Nevertheless, despite his efforts, he ends up stuttering, unable to express what he wanted.

"Eight... I-I'm...S-s-s" His voice cracks.

His hands shake as he clenches his fist, nails digging deep into his palms. It pains him that of all times, his speech disorder was acting up right at that moment. He knows what to say, and he's dying to say it, but the words don't come easy.

Though, the thing about their dear Number Eight, was that she always hears what they wanted to say anyway.

_'I'm sorry— Shit. I didn't mean to. I couldn't control it. I shouldn't have listened to Dad no matter what he said. I'm sorry, Eight. I'm so sorry. It's my fault your hurt, but I can't even fucking say it—'_

It was almost as if he was rambling, but Eight hears his thoughts loud and clear, and she knows how much he meant it.

She knows he doesn't deserve to beat himself up with regret, so she beats him into speaking.

"Hey," she looks up at her brother and gives him the most comforting smile she could muster, in order to assure him. "It's okay. _I'm_ okay. It's not your fault, and besides my wounds are going to heal up quick enough since it was Mom who fixed me up."

"B-B-But you're—"

_'But that doesn't change the fact that you're hurt, and I was the piece of shit who hurt you'_

She knows it wasn't him. Sometimes they forget that they were children and their father was responsible for their actions. It wasn't their fault they gave in to the pressure. It wasn't their fault that all their life they were just subjects to their father's experiment. It wasn't their fault that they didn't have a say in anything.

But just as rare as Diego's apologies go, it was also rare of him to let it off with just some mere words. After having entered the deepest parts of their minds during at least one point of the previous year, she was confident that she knew how her siblings tended to think. Diego, for one, was the type to burn the memory into his mind for a long time; like a scar that he imposes on himself. Sometimes she worries, he'll forget what it's like to live without being defined by their father's words.

So, she suggests, "If you really want to make it up to me then you can help Mom bake me cookies."

"Okay" was the only thing he manages to say; it was an unspoken promise.

Then, there was a short pause before anyone dares to speak.

"I'll rest up a bit before catching up to our lessons," Eight says, before facing her brothers realizing they both weren't with the others, "Won't you two get in trouble?"

"We'll manage" is all Five says to assure her, as if to say she should worry about herself instead. Diego nods in agreement before he turns to leave the room.

Once they're finally alone, Five takes the spot right next to her. He doesn't head back like Diego did. Since he already provoked their father's wrath, he thinks he might as well make the most of it. Eight was the type to push herself after all, who knows what stupid shit she'll pull off if he left her unattended.

Instead, he settles for sitting on the edge of her bed, muttering what he thought of their brother's apology, "You let him off too easy. You do know he was the reason you can barely walk in the first place?"

Eight gives him a pointed look as if to say: _'Don't be an ass. He didn't mean to. It's not like anyone ever had the chance to speak against Dad.'_

"Oh _please_ ," the boy scoffs, almost immediately as he proves a point, "I always did, didn't I?"

It takes a beat before he realizes that he didn't actually hear her speak. It takes another beat for her to actually realize that he responded to her thoughts.

Their eyes widened at each other as if they just came across an amazing discovery. The fact that she was not only able to one-sidedly read minds but also able to convey messages to others, was a new asset to her power that will possibly allow her to return to their father's good graces.

It was nice to know that her injuries weren't entirely all for naught.

The mood was considerably lighter when, Five looks at her and asks, "Do you know what this means?"

"I'll be the subject of Dad's experiments for a while?" she says, a little less optimistic that it ends up sounding like a question.

"Yeah, but on the bright side" the boy trails on, "we could talk shit about our father and make fun of our siblings with none of them ever having a single clue in their feeble minds."

Eight couldn't help but chuckle at how childish even he could be. The snarky reply slips past her lips, "And here I thought _you_ were the mature one out of the two of us."

"I stand correct" he retorts, quirking an eyebrow at her, "Knowing you, you're just going to use your newfound skill to cheat your way out of a test."

"Well, I do have the best person to get my answers from, don't I?" she smirks, fully aware that aside from their father, Five was usually the smartest person in the room.

"I'm conflicted on whether I should take offense in the way you take advantage of my intellect, or if I should find joy in the fact that you finally acknowledged my superiority over you," he tells her, successfully earning an eye roll from the girl at the display of his smugness.

Even so, Eight relishes in the short relief that came after the storm that brewed inside her.

* * *

Sometimes, she felt bad about putting distance between her and her siblings. She knows they care about her. No matter what they think or say, it doesn't change the fact that she was their sister. Perhaps sometimes, their words are sharp, or their thoughts can hurt, but they were just as flawed just as she was. They were never adept at emotionally supporting each other, having no role model to learn affection from.

But despite it all, they do try.

That's why no matter how much they left Vanya out, they don't blatantly push her away. They simply don't involve her in superhero-related matters believing that she could either be a liability, or she could be put in harm’s way. They learned the importance of minimizing casualties, and thus, their sister deserves a normal life more than anything else.

Sometimes, their differences do get the best of them. But it wasn't as if there weren't any good times. Her siblings weren't bad people, they were kids that were terribly raised, in a way that never allowed them to know what it was like to be normal. Because all this time, their father ingrained it into their minds that their powers made them different. That they had a duty to protect the world.

Although they find it hard to reach his expectations, they do try to protect _their_ world. They try to protect each other.

When her siblings crowd her after their lessons, she finds herself appreciating the company for once. Eight feels their concern; she realizes how much they care about her. Because although she can read minds, she always tries to put a limit to the voices. She doesn’t intrude on purpose, especially outside of training, unless the voice of their mind just happened to be unbearably loud, when they were on the edge of their emotions.

Her siblings take turns looking after her, despite her insistence that she was absolutely fine and that there was nothing to worry about. They know about how stubborn the girl could get and they know that at any given chance, she would push herself to move around acting as if she wasn’t even injured. So, they take it upon themselves to guard her against her reckless behavior.

The first ones to gather in her room were her sisters. Eliza immediately envelops her in a hug. The physical contact allows her to take the turbulent emotions within her twin despite her insistence not to. Eight gives in when she notices how worried Eliza was, and once again assures her that everything’s okay. Allison was the next to give Eight a hug and tell her about how sorry she was that she wasn’t able to stop their father. Vanya sits beside her despite not knowing what exactly went on. Knowing she was kept in the dark the entire day, Eliza tells their sister about what happens. And Vanya is horrified to know what they had to put up with. She doesn’t mask her concern despite how Eight had repeatedly assured them. But they end up talking about other things, trying to bring the mood back up.

It takes a moment before Eliza tells them she had something to do. After promising to come back again later, she leaves their two other sisters in the room. They don't leave Eight alone in fear she would pull off one of those disappearing acts that could end up reopening her wounds. As a result, there was always at least one person accompanying her in the room.

When Luther knocks on the door and enters with his turntable and a couple of records, Vanya takes it as her cue to leave. She says it was about time for her to work on her studies since their father will not let her off easily with a mediocre output, especially since she had more time to spare than the rest. Eight mouths her words of encouragement and she returns it with a soft smile before leaving.

Luther and Eight had never been the closest of the group. He was always adamant about defending their father's intentions, and the girl always claims that it wasn't an excuse for how the man treated them. Nevertheless, it doesn't stop their concern for each other. He lends her the turntable after Allison's suggestion. Allison assumes the voices get too much for her sometimes. She thinks Eight needed a distraction, at least from the pain of her wounds or from the noise of their thoughts. So, Luther willingly complies to lend her a couple of records.

The pair leave together, but before Eight even realizes she was left alone, Five blinks in like it were nothing.

" _Cripes_!—Five! For once in your life, can't you enter like a normal person and use the damn door?" the girl snaps, in fear that one day she would earn a heart attack from his sudden visits.

"And miss out on scaring the shit out of you?" the typical sarcasm laces his voice, " _Gee,_ wish I thought of that."

She was about to say something to retort against his statement, but Ben knocks on her door and peeks in. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Nope" Five answers, casually popping the _'p'_. They wonder why he'd think that, but they decide not to point it out.

Eight turns to their brother as she lets him in her room, "What's up?"

"I got you a book. It's one of my favorites," the boy holds it up for her to see, "Thought you could use it to kill time."

"Thanks, Ben." Eight smiles as he hands it to her. She observes the cover of the book as it reads _'The Bet by Anton Chekhov.'_ The girl figures that Ben must have read it quite frequently considering its worn-out edges.

Five glances from her shoulder and takes a look himself. Realizing what book it was, he asks, "It’s the story about whether capital punishment is better than life imprisonment, isn't it?"

"That's the one" Ben nods and watches his sister turn to glare at their brother.

"Don't spoil it" Eight scolds.

Five defends, "I didn't tell you what happens."

"Yeah, it's just a topic of debate," Ben agrees, assuring the maiden.

"Hm," the girl hums, as she reads the back cover, before asking, "So, about that debate, which side wins?"

"You just told me not to spoil you" Five reminds her, furrowing his eyebrows at her contradicting words, as they sit on the foot of her bed. Ben follows to sit beside them.

"I know," Eight brushes off his comment, before wondering, "But if you were to choose, what would it be?"

"Life imprisonment" Five replies immediately as if it was an obvious fact. He doesn't waste time on his answer.

The other boy seemed to ponder about it a little more. Ben speaks up after a while, "I'd actually say death is better, isn't it? I mean, what's the point in living when you know you're never leaving prison?"

"But the fact that you're alive, gives you an opportunity to do something. Whether or not your life is insignificant, death is the end. There would be no possibility of doing anything else that would actually make your life feel meaningful" Five counters his argument flawlessly.

"Yeah, but you'd never actually _live_. You'll just be stuck in repetition. There won't be anything to look forward to," Ben continues to state his case, "With life imprisonment, won't you go crazy from all that loneliness and actually wish you were dead instead?"

Before Five manages to say a retort, Eight interrupts their conversation, "That's pretty dark, Ben."

It takes a moment before the boy realizes she didn't answer her own question, and knowing her, Eight always had something to say about such things. So, Five turns to ask her, "What do _you_ think?"

"I think," she begins, "—it would depend on the person being punished. There’re too many other things to consider."

It takes a beat before she continues, "It depends on what their purpose or motive was. If you have something to live for, then maybe life-long imprisonment isn't too bad. You'd have a chance to escape. But if you think you don't have anything to live for, it's understandable to choose death over a meaningless life."

She considered both of their points, and although it did manage to impress Ben, the boy couldn't help but say, " _Okay_. But they didn't say anything about escaping, Eightie."

"But if you're considering the fact that the criminal would break out of prison, it would make more sense to kill him than risk the consequences" Five ignores Ben, as he counters the girl's statement.

" _Okay_ —like I said, you guys overthinking this," Ben furrows his eyebrows as he listens to them go off track, "We're just choosing between execution or life imprisonment. How did it become a discussion about the criminal's life or whoever's responsible for the punishment?"

"But it also depends on why you got convicted in the first place. If you're big on morality, then you might actually think that you deserve death to atone for your sins. But what if you're wrongfully convicted and you're punished with death, wouldn't it be unfair for the person?" Eight raises another point to tackle, with her endless questions. She continues rambling as if she didn't hear Ben's words, "—Or what about the people you care about outside of prison? If they can still visit you for at least a few hours, then wouldn't it be fine to be stuck in there because you can still see them as long as you keep living?"

Ben sighs in exasperation. Right when he thinks Five was about to drag their little discussion, he complains, " _Jesus_ , you two always know how to ruin a good book."

Five, as if he had no blame in it, agrees, "She has the tendency to do that."

"I was _just_ stating an opinion" Eight defends herself.

"How did a book recommendation even become a debate much less a philosophical analysis? I _just_ wanted you to read the book" Ben continues to raise his complaint, feeling a dull ache in his head that resulted from his siblings' discussion.

" _Oh_ , you've seen _nothing_." Five snorts, ranting about his usual dilemma when reading to the girl, "Eight _always_ gets distracted by the smallest details; you'd wonder how the fuck it's even related to the story."

"Eight, you're _so_ weird," the other boy looks at their sister, although it wasn't said out of malice or insult.

At that, Five smirks as if he'd won, and Eight takes everything in her to suppress the eye roll. Nevertheless, she surrenders in consideration of Ben, "Okay, okay— I'll read it and tell you what I think."

Ben smiles; satisfied with her answer. That was all he wanted in the first place, not some debate and especially not a discussion. Thankfully, as if the universe knew he couldn't bear another second with these two, they hear a knock on her door, before it swings open to reveal two more of their siblings. Klaus stands beside Eliza, holding a plateful of cookies and a pitcher of milk, while the girl was holding a tray of glasses.

They take a seat, between their siblings, forming a little circle. Eliza sits in between her twin sister and Ben. Klaus takes the spot between their two brothers.

She looks at them carefully, while she hands them their glasses as if she was trying to read the mood, before asking, "What's up with you guys?"

"Ben was in the middle of recommending a book" Five answers simply, and Ben just had to correct him.

" _No._ You guys were in the middle of ruining it."

"C'mon it wasn't _that_ bad" Eight chuckles at his grumbling.

"Ew," Klaus, who was never an avid reader, grimaces at them, "If you guys want to hear stories, drop those boring old books. I've got a lot to tell about my ghost buds."

"Surprised you even have friends" Five doesn't miss the chance to slip snarky comment, as he reaches out for a cookie from the plate in the middle of their circle.

" _Wait_ —Are you drunk?" Ben seems to notice the smell emanating from the boy beside him.

It was then that Eight notices the flask their brother was holding, that she just had to question, " _Klaus_ , you didn't do anything to the cookies, did you?"

Five drops the one he just grabbed back on the plate, narrowing his eyes at Klaus.

"Relax, _I_ didn't make them." Klaus brushes them off, with a suspicious smile on his face, "But I did get a few in advance, consider it as delivery tax."

The three remain unconvinced, glaring at their brother, that Eliza had to intervene.

"Mom made them. Diego and I helped out too and then Klaus..." she trails on as if she was finding the right words to use, "—watched us. _Yeah_. Anyways, it's safe."

"Hey! I didn't _just_ watch." The boy feigns offense, but clearly trying to hold his laughter, "My love and affection are the most essential ingredients of these cookies."

"Even more of a reason not to take one" Five scoffs, earning a gasp from the other.

Klaus rolls his eyes, " _Rude."_

As the boys continue their conversation, Eight takes a cookie from the pile and turns to her sister, who was also trying to suppress a laugh.

"If Klaus did something to this, I am holding you responsible," Eight tells her twin, and at that Eliza just had to chuckle, recalling the incident.

" _Actually_ —" she starts, before deciding to whisper instead, "Diego managed to ruin half of the cookies. The first batch was inedible and the second one was burnt. He threatened to castrate Klaus if he wasn't going to shut his mouth. So, don’t tell him I told you.”

At the image of Diego wearing one of Mom's apron amidst their kitchen disaster, Eight had to bite her lip in order not to break out into a laugh.

The twins laugh silently while their brothers were oblivious to their conversation. And when she looks back at her siblings to recall the events that led to these moments, she thinks, it wasn't such a bad day after all.

It was moments like these that cause her to take it upon herself to protect her family's happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _i found out from reddit that the book ben was reading in episode 2 during their meal was apparently 'the bet' by anton chekov, and i thought it would be nice to apply it. let me know about your thoughts_ :)


	5. they say we're in this together

When the needle touched her skin, Number Eight knew something was wrong. She didn't know what it was, but it distracted her from the stinging pain she felt every time the machine punctured her skin, staining it with ink. She stares at the umbrella being drawn on her left arm as if she was burning the sight in her mind. Whether it was contempt or frustration, she couldn't tell which. But the unsettling feeling in her gut managed to help her keep her mind off the fresh pain on her inner left forearm.

_Something was off._

From the corner of her eye, her worries were proven to be correct. She catches sight of Klaus wiping his own tears as he embraced Allison, who was sobbing from the pain of their fresh tattoos, Luther was standing nearby with a hand on the girl's back. Beside them stood Diego, acting tough as if Mom didn't offer to hold his hand earlier.

_Really, whoever thought of giving them tattoos was definitely not in their right mind._

But that wasn't what specifically bothered her. It was the way her twin sister was acting nowhere near her usual self.

At first, Eight figured that Eliza Hargreeves was just scared like the rest of them. Even more so, considering that her emotions were heightened by those around her. But the longer she noticed the state she was in, the easier it was to tell that something was wrong. She thought it would be over by the time the girl's turn was finished, but it only seemed to worsen the longer time passed.

With five down, excluding Number Eight who was in the middle of her turn, there were only two more to go.

Although, as much as she wanted to assure the two who came after her; Ben and Five, who, despite his pride, was nevertheless, showing an ounce of anxiety, Eight was preoccupied with her twin sister.

Eliza had never been withdrawn. If anything, she always surrounded herself in the company of others, desperate to help everyone as if she weren't hurting herself. She steals people's emotions from them as if to relieve them from her pain, despite how she couldn't do the same for herself. And although, Eight was relieved that, for once, her sister didn't seem insistent on taking their pain away, she could tell that something was wrong.

The younger twin was heaving deep breaths, gazing at the floor as if she was dazed, or rather as if she was trying to keep herself grounded. Eliza bites her lip as if suppressing the sob that was threatening to escape, and she hastily brushes of any tear that manages to fall from her eyes. Eight knew that the empath can inevitably feel the emotions of those who surrounded her, but she had never witnessed them influence her sister to that extent.

As soon as the tattoo artist permits Eight to leave the chair, the girl runs towards the younger twin, holding her hand, as if to remind her that she wasn't alone. Eight doesn't cry because of the pain, she doesn't even show an ounce of weakness. Although, if she had to admit it, it was partially because her sister's condition distracted her from the fresh wound. She didn't have time to spare thinking of the stinging sensation on her left arm.

Eliza tightens her grip on her sister's hand in less than a second. It was too tight to feel comfortable, but Eight doesn't say anything. She tries her best to mask her concern, and she keeps her worries to herself. But she does speak up.

"El?" The girl calls softly, as if she were testing the waters.

Eliza doesn't provide her an answer, but Eight notices her silent sobs. The empath staggers and the other children immediately turn to glance at the twins, noticing that something was off with their sister.

Ben, who had just finished his turn, runs up to them, placing a hand on the girl’s back. He then looks up at his siblings, mouthing in confusion morphed into concern, _"What happened to her?"_

They crowd the girl, but none of them were able to provide a coherent answer.

"El? What's wrong?" Eight tries to catch her attention, willing an answer from her. It takes a moment before they finally hear the empath speak.

"It hurts, Eightie. I-It hurts" Eliza's voice cracks.

And right then Eight hears a gut-wrenching scream; a sound that others fell deaf to. The older twin realizes she could hear her sister's thoughts.

_'It hurts. Make it stop. Make it stop.'_

Eventually, the quiet sobs turn into screams, and soon enough Eliza bawls her eyes out.

" _Stop_.— Make it stop. Please. _Please_ " the girl cries, clutching onto her twin sister, their other siblings surround them in hopes of assisting. Eight could feel a pang in her chest as she watches her sister sobbing in her arms. She doesn't know what was wrong, what made the other girl feel that way, but she wishes she could take the pain away, the same way the girl would.

They crowd her in chaos, worried voices overlap each other. Five, who was still seated in the chair as the tattoo artist worked on his arm, couldn't help but glance back at the chaos among his siblings.

Their father and mother approach them amidst the chaos. The old man tells them to move away from the maiden, despite Eight's reluctance. The older twin feels sick when she is forced to let go. It doesn't take long when he orders Number One to carry the maiden to the clinic to assess her condition. Their robot mother follows shortly to assist with treatment.

All of a sudden it felt all too much. Eight feels like the walls of the house were all too constricting. The sound of her siblings' thoughts was all too loud. And there was nothing to keep her grounded.

Out of everyone in this house, no matter how much they all played a make-believe family, Eliza was her blood sister. _Eliza was her real family_. That alone made her existence special. El was her other half, a reflection of herself. And even though they were twins, she was still older by mere minutes. Since she was the older sister, wasn't it her duty to protect her little sister? It was something she always took on herself that sometimes she was overprotective of the girl to a certain degree.

But reality felt like a slap in the face. Her sister was in pain and she was helpless. And all Eight could have done was watch Luther carry her out of the room, watch Eliza sob in pain and she didn't even know what the cause of it was. And at that very moment, Eight never felt so vulnerable in her life.

It was a huge difference from all the many times she was beaten up in training. She'd rather deal with her pain than watch others suffer from theirs. And the fact the only person whose existence gave her purpose— the very person who was with her since birth. There was an overwhelming sense of fear at the thought of losing her twin sister.

All of a sudden, Eight felt alone.

 _She was alone—_ Like the first time she woke up in the hospital. Like the last time she lost everything she had. Like all the moments she was forced to face her demons.

And although it was an irrational fear, considering that more often than not, she was the one hiding away from others, Eight couldn't help but expect the worst. She doesn't know where this separation anxiety was stemming from, whether it was from the trauma of their youth or whatnot.

But she does do what she always did. No matter how excruciating it felt, Eight refuses to show it.

* * *

When Luther comes back to meet the group, they were all anticipating an explanation of the events that happened leading up to then. It didn't help when, instead of hearing news about their sister's condition, all they received was an order from their father that they must all keep their distance from her.

With no explanation —not even a single word to explain the reason for Eliza's meltdown,— something in Eight snaps.

Eight worries. She worries a lot more than she usually did. A part of her thinks that maybe it was better that she wasn't allowed to meet her, knowing that her sister would definitely shoulder her emotions for her. But at the same time, her insides feel like they're exploding.

She closes in on herself a lot more than she had. Locking herself in her room. She doesn't even bother discreetly hiding in her safe spot. They notice it, but nobody speaks up about it.

It was at times like this that Vanya was the lucky one. No one knows why the girl was an exception to their father's most recent order. But then again, being ordinary, Vanya had always been the exception.

Considering that she was able to come and go in Eliza's room as she pleased, the other children to take advantage of the opportunity of having at least one of them meet her. They ask Vanya to play messenger, and she willingly obliges without so much as a second thought.

It was only when Vanya told Eight that her twin sister wanted to meet her, that Eight actually left her room.

"Um, I brought Eightie," the brunette informs her sister before they walk inside the room.

"Thank you, Van" Eliza breaks into a smile at the sight of her two sisters. A look at her and one would have mistaken that she was the same girl who was been sobbing in pain just a few hours ago.

Eight stays silent. She couldn't tell whether her sister was putting on a mask; if she was pretending to be fine, just to assure everyone else. The thought gnaws on Eight's mind, so she chews on her lip trying to release the semblance of frustration.

Vanya could tell the atmosphere was tense. In all honesty, she'd like to go, but it wasn't always she felt useful. It wasn't always that she felt included.

'Till suddenly, she recalled that she had one more thing to do.

"Oh."

And after a moment of silence, she speaks up. She quickly informs them before heading out the door, "The others asked me to give you some stuff. I'll go get it."

Vanya leaves, and the twins were forced to face each other.

Eliza feels the guilt creep inside her. As an empath, it was no doubt that she had a good take on the emotions of those around her. Hell, even with the state she was in, she could sense her sister's emotions from a mile away. It also came with blame she often put herself in, for being the cause of her sister's worries.

After all, for as long she could remember, being Number Nine meant that she was the one responsible for damage control. With an exceptionally dysfunctional family and the important duty of protecting the world from the reigns of evil, being a member of the Umbrella Academy meant that even as children their lives were always going to be tough. Their mental wellbeing was an exception to the physical healthcare because although their father does make sure that they are well treated (enough to prepare for their training), their emotional warfare never ceased.

_She knows people can only take so much._

Having the gift of being adept at knowing other's emotions, feelings, and even senses, Eliza always liked to think that if people each had a bottle to contain their emotions, then it was up to her to lessen their load. Although this imaginary glass can drain itself, if it was filled to the brim, the pressure turns it fragile. If it was too full for too often, it would break. One day, she thinks, it can eventually explode and shatter to pieces.

That's why the girl always tries to maintain equilibrium.

Luther, Five, and Allison were the easiest to handle; their containers don't show any signs of breaking. They were a lot more stable than the others. They just need a little bit of tinkering when their father gets too much.

Diego always had a little more anger. So, she takes it upon herself to take that; because it causes him to act before a second thought. She'd rather not have her brother put himself in danger due to his impulsiveness.

Ben's emotions were linked to the performance of his powers, so the girl always gives him an extra dose of calmness and takes away a bit of the negativity swirling in him. He insists she doesn't have to go out of her way, but that never stopped her anyway.

Vanya was a little more unstable; the glass of her bottle is chipped. Eliza knows that it's thanks to the medication that it doesn't fill up. But even so, the empath isn't satisfied with the cocktail of pills; it was an escape from the problem, not a solution. Thus, she remains insistent on including their sister. She wishes they can make just as many happy memories with her to overwrite the bad ones.

Just like Vanya, not everyone was as lucky. After all, while the rest of their siblings had the option not to use their powers, some never had the privilege of an off switch. Number Four, Number Eight, and Number Nine knew exactly what that felt like.

The empath never really had a choice; although their emotions heighten her own, she'd rather do with it than without. It helped her watch everyone's emotional state. It was the driving force behind her actions.

The telepath managed her power a lot better depending on her concentration and mental state. Most times, she was able to block the voices out, other times she wasn't so lucky.

The seance took most of the fall. The fact that their father kept locking him in mausoleums since their childhood only aggravated his trauma. He only had the influence of alcohol to keep the ghosts at bay.

That being said, Klaus' emotional well-being had always been quite bad. It was a partial reason why Eliza always stuck by him as if worried that one day he would break. Despite his happy indifferent facade, she knows he's always full to the brim. She also knows she can't nullify his powers; the very source of the turbulent emotions he carries. He didn't have medication like Vanya. He was forced to deal with his demons _alone_ and the only thing she could do was have him _not_ deal with it _alone_.

Most days, Eliza was lucky to get to him quickly; other days he ends up drunk, resorting to the influence of alcohol. Although she had to admit that it wasn't good for him to be codependent on her power, neither of her siblings can think of another way to help him.

Eight wasn't any better, although she was certainly good at hiding it. Unlike their brother, she had the tendency of bottling things too much; enough to leave her on the brim of breaking. The girl could be just as self-destructive as her siblings, who never willingly admitted to their emotions unless someone pried. But unlike the rest of them, she had it bad enough to never let the empath help her.

Eight was stubborn that way.

She runs away, hides from sight, waiting 'till her emotions stabilize; until the contents of her glass drain halfway. She refuses the help and refuses to show weakness. Her self-destructive demeanor worries her sister that one day she's going to explode. Despite her attempts, Eliza never found where Eight would hide from her. The most she could do was take the weight off the girl before hiding. She steals a bit of the content within her bottle; just enough to stop it from overflowing, little enough for Eight not to notice.

But this time, it was a bit too much that even Eliza could locate where the girl was from the strong emotions she was suppressing. Eight wasn't doing well, and even if Eliza had been the one in pain earlier that day, she can't help the concern that grows inside her. If she could, she would reach out to her sister and take at least some of the weight. If she could, she would even tamper with her twin sister's emotions to some extent; at least to help her in some way.

But, she _couldn't_ and Eight would never forgive her if she did.

When the door shut behind the girl, the older twin is the first to speak up.

"El, what happened?" Eight's voice was soft, almost as if it would crack. It doesn’t, but her sister could tell she was trying her best to keep her act together.

So, Eliza ignores the question aimed at her, and returns it with another one instead, "Are you okay?"

" _Don't_ turn this around on me—" Eight's mask breaks, a pained expression envelops her face and it breaks her sister's heart. "We're talking about _you_. What the hell happened, back there?"

" _Eightie_..." the younger tries to appease her, their eyes meet each other but neither backs down first.

It takes a couple of moments before Eliza takes a breath to clear her head, to put herself together. She tries her best not to go along with her sister's whims. She can't afford to let Eight have a say on this one.

"Fine, let's have a deal" Eliza proposes, hoping it was the best way to settle their little impasse.

"A deal?"

"Yeah. I'll let you see all the information you need by letting you in my mind," the girl trails on. " _But_ you have to let me help you with my powers this once."

It was a fair trade. She gets to use her powers on the other and in return, the other can do it to her too.

But Eight wouldn't let it happen so easily, knowing how unfair it was to have her pain taken away while there was no way of doing the same for her twin sister. Call it stupid, but she'd rather deal with as much as the other girl has.

"You do know that it doesn't matter if you'll _let_ me. Dad trained me hard enough to bust through your minds despite the fight you all put on" the older twin threatens, but the empath remains unfazed.

"And I could do the same for you and tamper with your emotions without your consent!"

Eight heaves a sigh. When it comes to helping other people, she knows her sister could be as stubborn as she was.

So, she gives up, "Fine."

Eliza's eyes light up, "Really?"

And just like that, the older twin goes first.

* * *

It took everything in Number Eight not to cry as she enters her sister's mind, strolling across the memory from earlier that day. She feels the same things the other girl had: their overlapping emotions, the pain of her sister, and the excruciating pain of the seven other people in the room— all stemming from something as simple as their tattoos. It feels like her arm was being cut open and chopped to pieces, but she tries not to break concentration.

Soon enough the pain settles, when she is left in the care of their father to provide her medical attention. He runs brain scans and attaches wires on her body after running a few other tests.

Turns out, it had something to do with the empath's power, who, just like her twin, can receive as much as they can give. Though, ironically enough, instead of thoughts and the other aspects of the mind, she had the bottom end of the stick: emotions, and all the shit that came with it.

Though emotional and physical pain varied greatly, considering that they had neurological similarities, when the empath resonated with too much of her siblings' emotions, she ends up syncing with all their physical pain.

It made a lot of sense, honestly. Eight witnessed it happen before. She always wondered how coincidental it was for both of them to have amnesia from the car crash during their childhood, when in fact the older twin was the only one with the bandaged head. It didn't make sense for Eliza's injuries to amount to hers, but now it did.

Their father called the phenomenon _'sensory link'_ , and like the monster he was for raising them as soldiers, apparently, he believes that this subset of the girl's powers can be weaponized.

If Eliza mastered this ability, it could allow her to link other people instead of her. She would be able to both give and share the pain, instead of receiving it. It may have been cruel, but it would make her a great asset to the team during fights.

 _Of course_ , Eight seethes. _It was just like their father to think about how to use them instead of how to help them._ It was always about _their_ duty to the world, and never about _his_ duty as their father _._

When the girl's eyes snap open, the first thing she sees is her sister. And it all comes rushing back to her. Worry and dread seep through her veins. She realizes why they were asked to distance themselves from her sister, and she can't even bear the thought that she had to deal with the pain of eight people all at once.

A beat later, Eight feels the dread in her gut. She thinks about how she shouldn't be in a room with the empath because if they were still connected then that would mean she was still sharing two people's worth of pain.

Eight tries her best to keep calm, but the panic is evident in her voice, "Are you sure I should be in here? What if—"

"It's okay, Eightie," Eliza tries to calm her sister down, "Even if it's still on, I can deal one person."

It may have been hypocritical of her but even so, Eight hates how the girl always put up with things that could harm her. She hates how the girl puts herself last, every single time.

But she knows there wasn't anything she can do, and right now they needed to think of a solution to deal with their dear old Dad, because knowing him, it was now the empath's turn to be the subject of his experiments. Just like hers was, Eight knows Eliza's training would also double in difficulty.

While her twin sister broods, Eliza knows it’s her turn of the trade. She reaches for her sister's hand, and Eight lets her hold it after minimal resistance. Funny how they didn't only share the same face; here they were first sharing thoughts, then sharing emotions.

The younger twin feels them. The contents of Eight's heart consisted of so much worry, fear, dread, sadness, hurt. It was so damn heavy.

 _God_ , the girl was brimming with so many negative emotions, that the empath can feel her throat clog up. Eventually, there was an ache in her chest and tears threaten to fall from her eyes.

Honestly, the younger twin wonders how the hell her sister kept a straight face on a daily basis.

Eight tries not to look affected. She tries to ignore the fact that her sister was literally feeling what she was and was draining it out from her. The slight calmness gives her time to think.

She tries to find a solution. She tries to think of a way to alleviate Eliza's burden, knowing these upcoming days would be tough. It was a long shot, and she knows that she shouldn't, she still hopes anyway, "Our first mission is soon. Can you sit it out?"

"Do you actually think Dad would let anyone be excluded during our debut as the Umbrella Academy? He plans for me to charm the media, sis!" Eliza's laugh was almost a scoff. It was also choked up with evident cracks in her voice. Her eyelids betray her, and tears start falling.

 _Really_. She really didn't mind her own dilemma, but her sister was making it hard not to. The other girl's emotions were influencing her as the empath filters through them.

They both know the cold hard truth. It was inevitable to go against their father.

They were adopted for that reason. They were raised for that moment. They went through hell for that so-called duty.

It was only when another voice cuts through the room that Eliza had to brush off her tears quickly.

"I-is something wrong?" Vanya looks at them, confused after likely hearing Eliza's earlier statement. She was always left out of the news, never involved in any of the missions. The way they were pretending to be fine when she made her presence known, only aggravated her worries. Vanya feels like she was intruding on their moment.

Eight looks up to meet her eyes, as she greets the girl, "Hey, Vanya."

"Hey."

"Welcome back," Eliza smiles, doing her best not to make anyone else worry. They shift the subject, but their sister doesn't miss it.

"I-uh" Vanya uses the momentarily change of topic to gather the bundle of papers in her hand. She gives it to their sister who had a meltdown not long ago, "I got the get-well cards made by everyone."

Eliza takes them joyfully, a huge contrast to how she felt when filtering through her twin's emotions. The corners of her lips quirk up as she browses through each card.

Luther's looked like a standard greeting card. Diego's was heartfelt but hard to read with his chicken scratch handwriting. Allison's was a little more elegant, written in pretty script. Klaus' was a lot like him: extra with a whole dose of color ( _and where did he get all that glitter?_ ). Five's was short and chaste; he never beats around the bush. Ben's was a lot more elaborate; it was quite like him to write like the novels they read. Vanya's was simple but heartwarming; her words were much like a writer’s. And lastly, Eight's was just like her; it reflected how well she knew those around her.

Eliza chuckles, "I can't believe you guys got to convince Five and Diego to make one."

Eight snorts at that, "Diego can be a sap under those hard edges, but even I'm surprised Five's actually capable of showing his sympathy."

They look at each other and end up bursting laughter, ignoring the fact that just a moment ago the atmosphere was full of dread and worry. Even if it was just for a moment, they bask in the momentary escape from their reality.

* * *

Vanya doesn't feel any form of comfort from watching the twins. It feels as if her thoughts were confirmed. She didn't belong here— _like every other time_. Maybe she should leave. _Maybe she was meant to be alone_.

Eight snaps her head to turn to their sister when she overhears the thought. Eyes full of worry.

Eliza senses it soon after.

 _Crap_. Vanya feels as if she was caught red-handed. This was not the place to sulk, especially around the very siblings who were sensitive to both thoughts and emotions.

The younger twin is the first to speak, "Vanya?"

"Sorry." Vanya mumbles. She tries to clear her head and mask her emotions, but she can't help the overwhelming thought that their demeanor changed because of her presence.

A while ago, they had been in some sort of emotional conversation and now— if they were only acting happy around her then she'd rather not deal with that.

"Uh- if you two want some privacy. I can just go."

" _No_ " the twins answer in unison, their response was almost immediate.

As if they were reading each other's minds, Eliza and Eight look at each other and then their sister. Something was wrong. Eight doesn't want to intrude in Vanya's head without consent, so she lets the empath lead.

"Why would you think that?" Eliza looks at Vanya, as her eyes soften.

Vanya tries to speak, her words falter, "Everyone always drops the topic when I'm around and it's—"

 _'It's always like no one wants me around,'_ she thinks to herself. Eight inevitably hears it.

"Hey, look at me" Eliza coaxes, taking her sister's hands to steal the loneliness away from her, "It's not because we don't want to include you. It's because we want to protect you from what we already went through. You deserve a normal life, Vanya."

"I don't want _normal_. I just want to be included" Vanya bears her heart to them. "It's not fair how I'm the only one destined to be ordinary."

"Well, the fact that your different from all of us makes you just as extraordinary as you think we are" Eight speaks her mind. "No matter what bullcrap Dad tells you, you _are_ one of us."

"But that doesn't mean you deserve to feel the same pain" Eliza adds and Vanya looks back at her.

"You don't deserve it either," she tells them hoping they realize how much it applies to them just as much as they think it did to her.

Eight's facade almost breaks. Eliza needed to take a breath before she responded.

"I-I know" the girl agrees after a moment, the grip on their sister's hand tightens gently "But someday things will work out. We'll be free of this. And we'll make sure you're with us."

Eliza continues, pulling both of her sisters in for a hug, "We'll all stick together."

Eight knows her twin sister was speaking from her heart, but a part of her dies inside as she so desperately wishes those words would come true.


End file.
